


Night Flower

by kd1288



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bottom Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Smut, Top Kim Jongin | Kai, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28790655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kd1288/pseuds/kd1288
Summary: The war is over and now Jongin is trying to find the prostitute he's fallen in love with.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 40
Kudos: 149
Collections: Kaisoo OLAO Chapter Three





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> When the war is over Jongin is set to find the nameless prostitute he used to sleep with in his sleepless nights. 
> 
> To the prompter I'm so glad to work on this prompt. But I couldn't work with the nameless thing so sorry for that. I hope you'll enjoy the fic. 
> 
> Writing this fic has been an awesome experience for me. This is based on Korean War and also on Swing Kids AU because I lack in world building. Haha! 
> 
> I hope you'll give this a shot but before you proceed I'd like to mention some triggers.  
> 1\. Prostitution.  
> 2\. Painful sex (not forced)  
> 3\. Use of harsh language.  
> 4\. Use of language that might seem racist but this is not my opinion. I just used them to make the fic realistic.  
> 5\. Implied homophobia.

**Like the breath of a wraith**

**You came to me.**

**Your fingers feather light, blue**

**You tickled my stone cold body, grey**

**You turned me red.**

**You kissed me with your cold lips**

**And breathed fire down my soul.**

**You're the reason I'm alive.**


	2. Main Chapter

Jongin's ears are ringing, not quite incessant, rather coming and ebbing, almost like the horn of an ambulance. His hands are clammy, no matter how many times he wipes them on his pants. He can't remember the last time he had a sip of water as his throat feels dry as sand. 

All around him people are scurrying around, their voices mixing into one shrill cacophony, punctuated by broken, howling cries over cold, unmoving bodies of loved ones. 

The sun is exceptionally scorching today, glaring down at the sight underneath as if trying to burn away all the evidence of the futile bloodshed. 

But that actually works as a blessing for Jongin. He needs to be alert, needs to overcome his tendency to become numb when faced with anxiety and stress. It's a coping mechanism he learned in his childhood on that night when a rumour of an accident in the factory, where his father worked, reached them before his father reached home. While his sisters and mother were crying he pushed all the fear and anxiety in the back of his mind trying to look calm and strong, trying to fit in the role of the man of the family. 

But today he can't afford to be numb. He has to find _him_. He has to keep his last promise. 

_No matter what happens, I will find you._

His own words echo in his ears and a set of big eyes turned bigger with hope and desperation flashes through his mind. 

Jongin keeps on repeating the words "wait for me" to himself like a mantra to keep him going, to not give in to the crushing fear and the doubt sprouting its ugly head inside his mind. 

  
  


Shaking his head, he punches his thighs, a nervous tick. He needs to keep his mind focused on the goal for now; he'd have plenty of time for emotions after he finds him. 

_If he finds him_...a tiny wicked voice whispers in his ears and he shakes his head again to make it disappear. 

As he trudges along the dirt road that's become somewhat familiar in the past months, he looks around wildly for any sign of him, hoping against hope that he would pop out from somewhere, smiling at him in that nonchalant way of his, as if nothing happened. 

From a distance, Jongin spies a group of villagers hovering over something on the ground and after some hasty steps towards them, the cries finally reach him. 

The same broken cries. 

He starts to walk faster, squinting his eyes to get a peek at the bodies lying on the ground.

His heart starts to beat faster. 

He quickly scans through the ten pair of feet, peeking out of the carefully placed straw mat to cover the bodies up, and when a pair of feet, smaller than usual male feet, with crooked little toes catches his eyes, it's as if someone punches him on the guts and he falls down on his knees, jarring his whole body.

The ringing in his ears becomes louder, and he hears a muffled sob wrenching out of someone near him just before his vision turns dark. 

  
  


❄️❄️

Corporal Kim Jong In's journal entry #40

Date: 

Time: 

I arrived at Koje-do yesterday at 7 a.m. It seems no one in my superiors have the inclination about my injury as no one mentioned it. A total of fifty soldiers came here from the front line; so it is possible they have not been given any detailed information about each of us separately. After all, there is a war going on, so unless any of us turn dead, the living soldiers mean nothing more than mere numbers. 

Even after death we are nothing more than useless numbers to be considered as a collective entity and mentioned as an afterthought at the very end of newspaper articles. 

Whatever the reason maybe, I feel immensely relieved over their lack of knowledge. Some wounds, physical and emotional, are better kept buried. 

My light disposition, however, did not last long. From the briefing about my duties here, what I deduced is that I am to guard the prisoners and that is that. There is almost nothing else to do. I don't know how to spend the whole day guarding prisoners from the north when they are practically kept at an isolated island far south from their homeland without any means to return or go anywhere out of here.

I must utilise my time traversing the island. 

From the little I could explore, this is a beautiful place, an island, a little off from the south-eastern coast, and far far away from the war. 

If it weren't for the POW camp and the acrid air resulting out of fear, desperation and mostly a deep hatred and rage in the hearts of both parties- communist sympathizers and the anti-communists- this island, with its hills and green meadows that meet midway through dense forest, serene and vast enough for wandering around freely without a care in the world, would have been a pilgrimage for a recluse. These days, after this war is over, I might just turn one. 

❄️❄️

  
  


Lice were crawling all over his scalp.

  
  


With a start Jongin woke up and sat up hastily on the mat. A violent shudder ran through his whole body before he ran his hands through his hair, just to make sure it was a dream, or rather a mere memory and not the reality. 

It's been almost a month that he came here, far away from the war; and yet, those horrible experiences still haunted him sometimes. 

More than the fear of sudden attack and resulting death or maiming, it was the utter lack of personal hygiene that bothered him the most. After all he had always been, from a very young age, focused on keeping himself clean. He'd prefer to douse ice cold water on himself instead of going without a bath. The lack of cleanliness was something he hated while being on the front and now, as he came to think about it, probably being transferred to Koje-do was not so bad after all. Maybe, the lack of activities is bad for his love sick heart, but otherwise taken as a whole, it was better for his sanity. 

It was still dark outside and silent. Oddly so. Maybe the crickets need to sleep too. He shrugged. 

  
  


Not wanting to disturb the sleeping corporal beside him, he threw his thin blanket aside and got up as silently as possible. Tip-toeing to the small table on the far corner of the tent, he felt for the matchbox, still completely dark inside the tent. 

He lit a match and peeked at his wrist watch. He almost never parted with his watch, a habit he picked up in recent times. He needed to be alert at all times. 

_You're still pathetically holding onto anything that's associated with him._

Jongin shook his head to ward off the little devil that spoke inside his mind sometimes. It had nothing to do with the fact that the watch was a gift from him. If it weren't quite a pricey thing, he'd have thrown it away already. Jongin took pride in himself being of a practical sort. 

He pulled the flap aside and poked his head out of the tent. Cold wind hit his face, which was not a very unpleasant experience. It was still a few months away from the winter making the days mostly hot and the night pleasantly cool. 

He was about to go out when a voice stopped him. "Can't sleep?" It sounded groggy. 

Jongin looked back but couldn't see the person asking the question. But he recognised the voice. It was Minjae. One of the other three corporals sleeping inside the tent. Although it had not been long, he had become quite close to the other corporal. Not quite a friend, but almost. Like you'd look out for each other so many miles away from your hometown. They were both from Seol and that brought an immediate sense of solidarity between them. 

"Yeah, I'll just take a stroll. You go back to sleep." 

Before getting out, Jongin could hear a mumbled _be careful_ from him and hummed in response. 

Once outside in the night breeze, he inhaled deeply, the cool, clear air filling his lungs. For the first time in a long time, he felt oddly content. Like just yesterday he wasn't praying for going back to the front, just to be able to become so dog tired, both in body and mind, that he'd fall asleep as soon as he dropped down on the mat. 

Like he wasn't avoiding any thought of him like the plague. Like indulging even a few minutes in what he had, and now had lost forever, didn't bring a heavy feeling inside his chest making it hard to breathe. 

But, Jongin knew he had to overcome this melancholy. He needed to get out of this attachment that was almost bordering towards obsession. But on his defense, before becoming his lover, Taemin had been his best friend, his confidant for so long that almost in every childhood memory of Jongin, he was always there. 

They were practically inseparable, all through school to university. Not wanting to break their bond once they both entered adult life, Taemin agreed to work in his small book shop. So Jongin had, foolishly, hoped they'd always be together, finding assurance every time Taemin gladly came into his embrace, every time their lips met in a silent pledge to each other. 

But it turned out to be all Jongin's imagination. That was just _youthful experimentation born out of boredom and freedom._ Taemin's words had cut deep, so deep that even after months, Jongin could still feel the pain from it. 

He was walking past the compounds, where the prisoners were kept, towards the small mound ahead. As it was nearing the full moon he wasn't finding it too hard to walk in the night. The moon and the stars were his guides. 

As soon as he reached the top of the mound, he took off his shoes, marvelling in the softness of the grass, now moist from the dew. He sat down, spreading his legs and started to brush his hands over the thick grass. He ran his wet hands over his face and felt a calmness engulfing him. 

On this vast island, sitting on top of the green carpeted mound, and inhaling in the fresh night air, he decided to come to terms with his fate. 

He accepted that his love, as precious as it was to him, was unrequited. And he accepted that he couldn't blame Taemin for that. No one can be forced to love someone. And even if it hurt so bad, he had to accept the blunt truth that Taemin would never be a part of his life like he always used to be, that Taemin had given his heart to a woman, that he was happily married now. 

Did he hate Taemin? Jongin asked himself. After a thorough soul searching he found an answer. Maybe a little. Not because he left him, no, not that. If he'd told him he couldn't walk the harder path ahead of themselves in fear of the society, it'd been easier for Jongin to understand and accept. But the way he completely belittled their bond was what made him resentful towards him. 

Jongin realized that aside from his broken heart his pride was hurt too. 

With this realisation came the resolve to let go of the ghost of his past and all the longing, all the hurt, and all the sadness that accompanied. Jongin wasn't foolish enough to believe that it would be that easy, that only a nightly dialogue with himself would magically solve all the problems. But he couldn't help but feel relieved when the weight on his chest was lifted a little. 

With a contented sigh he pulled himself up on his feet. Turning the small searchlight on, he checked the time. It was three in the morning. It surprised him that he'd been out for almost two hours. Time really flies when you are in deep thought. 

He wiped the wetness and loose blades of grass sticking to his hands on his trousers and proceeded to get down from the mound. He hoped he could sleep for a wink before he had to report at six in the morning, sharp. 

  
  


While he was returning to the tent and neared the compound A-1, a sudden craving for a cigarette hit him. So he quickly lit one. This was a habit he developed during his college student life. He wasn't a stress smoker, smoking was something he did when he felt relieved or happy over something. 

Taemin used to almost always accompany him. 

Jongin mentally chastised himself. He would not delve on those memories anymore. Wasn't that he just promised to himself a little while ago? 

He was strolling back towards his tent while making smoke rings, each successful attempt making him happy like a kid when he saw a shadow a little ahead inside the compound. It didn't take more than a few seconds for him to figure out what that meant. He quickly threw the light of the searchlight on them but couldn't see their faces as they dispersed like smoke. 

He jogged to the place where the prisoners were gathering. He saw the barbed wire dividing compounds A-3 and A-4. 

It could only mean that the prisoners of neighbouring compounds were mingling at night. 

It was a shame he couldn't capture them nor he could see their faces. 

Jongin returned to his tent with a small frown. What could possibly be so important that needed immediate meeting? So late at night? He scratched his head in confusion. Maybe he was worrying too much over nothing. Maybe they were just like him, so weary from the experience of war that they couldn't sleep easily. 

Once lying down he was immediately pulled into a deep slumber. 

  
  


❄️❄️

_He's running along the familiar dirt road at a breakneck speed, arms flailing, uneven steps in risk of making him topple over and fall on his face. His breath is coming in spurts, sweat running into his eyes making his vision blurred. Something triggered his fight or flight instinct and given his frail body he couldn't possibly fight whatever it was he had to fight. So, he is running but from what, his panicked mind can't seem to remember._

_Maybe some beast chased after him? Could be that mad bull he saw two days ago? It went after a kid in the middle of the market all of a sudden, and didn't stop until the kid fell into a ditch, spraining her ankle._

_Whatever it is, one thing he knows is he has to run, no matter what. Something terrible would happen if he stops. So he keeps running._

_He doesn't know how long he ran but at some point he finds himself standing at a dead end and his panic escalates even more. He looks around, frantically searching for some shelter and finds none._

_It is at that moment he understands that the game is over for him. There is nothing he can do but accepting defeat, accepting whatever is written on his fate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and when he opens them a single tear falls from his right eye._

_He turns around to face his attacker._

_But nothing comes._

_But what he sees makes him even more confused. All of a sudden all the villagers are standing around him in a circle, their bodies unmoving, faces impassive._

_"Why didn't anyone help me before when I was running?" He demands from the general audience._

_The villagers' faces remain as impassive as before._

_It is then he starts to cry in earnest._

The first thought that came to him after waking up was how he loathed waking up with tears streaks still not quite dried up, and a heaviness in his chest born out of huge self-pity, as heavy as a mountain. He stared at the thatched roof, listlessly, that needed mending before the coming monsoon. While his tears were drying up he worried over the dwindling amount of rice in the rice sack, lack of shirts that didn't sport any special tricks for ventilation, and mostly he regretted losing his last pair of decent shoes. 

_Those vindictive little wenches! They could all rot in hell for all he cared!_

It wasn't until his stomach growled that he was pulled out of his brooding; he gingerly sat up on the old, squeaky cot, and ran his hands roughly through his short cropped hair. He hated these days that started with feeling sorry for himself as they tended to end with him coming home empty handed and that mostly meant going to bed with an empty stomach. He didn't like cooking on normal days, and in those days he just couldn't find the motivation to go through all that trouble just for the result to end within a few minutes. 

His mood further worsened when he was getting ready for the day and discovered holes in his plain, faded cotton pants too. His lips curled downwards and a deep sigh squeezed out of him. 

No wonder people don't like him. 

But when he stepped outside he brought a bounce in his walk. 

❄️❄️

  
  
  


They were standing in perfect formation, all fifty of the ROK soldiers assigned to the Koje-do prison camp as guards. This was their first day of orientation and there was an anticipation permeating the environment. 

Even though Jongin knew there was nothing exciting in guard duty he couldn't help feel a little enthusiasm in starting something new. It was the same anticipation when he was sent to the front too. Every new beginning brings him small excitement. 

Their seniors arrived in front of them, all of them white, American soldiers, here as a part of the UN Soldiers. Other than the sharp eyes, their faces were blank canvases. All ROK soldiers stood in attention. Colonel Harrison, a stern looking man, present in charge of the POW, spoke up first, "At ease, soldiers. Welcome to Koje-do POW camp," he commanded in a gruff voice. 

They were given a basic outline of their duties, and dos and don'ts, which Jongin very much doubted any of them actually understood. It was all spoken in English. After a few minutes, the colonel realized the issue from their blank faces. He sighed, clearly defeated. The frown line on his forehead became more prominent. 

"If anyone from you understands English step forward," he commanded. Jongin was a little startled at this command but he quickly recovered and stepped forward. 

It turned out he was the only one. 

"Good," the colonel squinted his eyes to take a look at Jongin's name. "Corporal Kim Jongin, follow me. Others are dismissed. 

Once inside the tent, Jongin wondered about the reason he was summoned there. He had an inkling that it would be some sort of translation task and he wasn't wrong. 

"Here, take this write up of the instructions and translate them into Hangul." The colonel handed him the paper, gestured at him to sit at the nearest desk and waited for him to get to work at once. 

So Jongin started to write. Just as he finished one sentence the paper in his hand was snatched away. The colonel seemed like an impatient man. He was peering closely at his writing and from the look on his face Jongin deduced he liked it. 

"You have a good handwriting," the colonel praised him in his gruff voice. 

Jongin was about to thank him but the man cut him off. "Can you write in English?" There was an eagerness reflected in the man's face that showed he wanted the answer to be yes. 

When he said yes, the Colonel handed him a paper that looked like details of one of POWs written in Hangul, probably by the POW himself. “Translate this into English. Quick.” Leaving him with the paper, the Colonel went to his own desk.

It took him five minutes to translate the whole thing and when he showed the completed paper to the Colonel he seemed genuinely impressed. “Where did you learn English so well?” his superior asked, raising a brow.

“I have self-taught myself, sir. I have a bookstore and I like to read books about different cultures, sir.”

The Colonel hummed before asking, “How far have you studied Corporal?”

“I have graduated with honours in History and Civics, sir.” He felt proud talking about his education. It was one of the few things he was proud of about himself.

Colonel Harrison looked pleased to hear this. He handed him files containing written requirements for smooth running of the camp. All of them are written in Hangul as ninety five percent soldiers working here are native Koreans. It was his task to translate them in English and properly draft the reports to be sent to the headquarters. 

That was exactly what he was doing when a tall, black man entered the tent, and saluting the Colonel he stood in attention. The Colonel looked up at the man and ordered him to be at ease. Jongin was curious about the man as he hadn't seen a black man before in his life but he resisted staring as it was rude. 

"Jongin, meet Sergeant Jackson. Jackson, meet Corporal Jongin, a young educated man." The Colonel seemed happy to introduce themselves to each other. 

Jongin saluted his superior. The man looked different, not like the other American soldiers here and he wasn't thinking that for the man's skin color. Sergeant Jackson looked like an intelligent, sensitive man. He liked the man at the first glance. He wished to converse with him. He had a feeling they'd have something in common. 

❄️❄️

  
  


As soon as he neared the barracks he could see the soldiers out and about. He cursed under his breath. He was late, again. _Halmoni_ wouldn't be pleased. This was the second time he was late this month and she had already scolded him for almost an hour the first time; he couldn't imagine what he'd had to face this time. He took long strides, cursing, once again, the shortness of his legs. 

  
  


The plan was to make himself invisible and sneak into the kitchen from the rear entrance, unnoticed, and hopefully avoid the immediate reprimand from the furious owner. But just as he tiptoed around the corner he came face to face with the very person he was trying to avoid. He flinched away a little but then quickly schooled his expression back to nonchalance. It was better to act that way rather than to apologize first, because according to him, nothing good comes from accepting your own fault first. Let the other person decide how they'd wanted to deal with the situation and he'd be content with the punishment dealt to him. 

He hated begging. 

But that had been exactly what he had done on that day almost a year ago. It had been pouring the whole day as if to wash away all his pride, all his resistance to bring him down on his knees like a broken man. Starving for two days straight, he'd been at his wits end, wandering around, completely soaked and shivering under the pouring rain when he'd seen this shop near the barracks and had approached it with a mind to beg for any leftover food. 

  
  


He'd staggered forward, knee deep in the puddle, towards the run down shop that'd somehow managed to stay upright even in that harsh storm. He'd spotted an old woman hunching down inside the shop seemingly trying to save herself from the cold gusts of wind. Saying a quick prayer, he'd approached the woman. 

The wary look in her eyes and the deep frown lines in her crinkly face had dampened the hope in his heart. Even then, gritting his teeth, he'd proceeded with his request only to be promptly rejected. 

_"My door is not open for beggars."_

He still remembered her words, spoken in a stern voice but her eyes weren't unkind. 

He'd nodded once in defeat about to leave before he'd heard her speak again. This time she'd had a proposal for him to work there to earn his food. He'd instantly perked up at the proposal, feeling like the gods had answered his prayers after all, and his heart had swelled with gratitude towards the woman. 

So, it had been a year since he'd been working here and in return, his worries over finding food for the day was over. But other than that he was still strapped for cash; so when a sergeant, a regular customer, on a fine day, offered him money in exchange for some work, he hadn't paused to inquire after the nature of the work. He'd found that out soon after going to the sergeant's tent though. 

That was the day he'd learned to keep up a smiling face while his heart pounded in fear and his ass throbbed in pain. 

  
  


❄️❄️

Corporal Kim Jong In's journal entry #42

Date: 

Time: 

Am I turning a chronic insomniac? Before, it was the anxiety of the war and the requirement of being awake at the drop of a hat, but what possible reason could there be for my losing sleep now?

If I'm being honest with myself, I know the reason. This silence of the night adds fuel to my running engine of a mind. It transports me back to the time when I had him with me, when I could fall asleep with a wish to meet him in my dreams, and if not in dreams, surely after waking up in the morning. It takes me back to the time when I endured the lonely nights with a warmth of surety in my heart that I'd be looking upon his handsome face the morning after. 

Will I ever be able to get away from his clutches? What right does he have to hold this much power over me? When he himself walked away leaving me stranded in the road? What right do I have to still indulge myself in fantasies of him when he has given himself to someone else? What right does my erratic heart have to be aching for that cruel man? 

Every night on this island seems to get darker than before. I fear I will be engulfed by this darkness if I continue in this path of melancholy. Maybe I should start writing novels; if I can pour all the sadness inside my heart onto the pages, it could turn out to be a tragic love story. If I get out of this forsaken island alive, I can sell them in the bookstore. Maybe the tragic love story of a young man who'd just returned from serving the nation would catch the patrons' eyes. Maybe I could convince them to buy it by offering discounts, of course. 

❄️❄️

  
  
  


Entering the shabby shop he greeted the old woman, who he calls _halmoni_ now. Usually she would grunt in acknowledgement, yes, she was not a very sociable person, but today his greetings went completely unanswered. He couldn't decide if he was being extra paranoid or her face really looked more grim than usual. 

  
  


He figured he was in trouble for being late. He stood still in front of the owner for a bit to see if he'd be dismissed from his duties or not, and when she went away towards the counter with a dejected sigh, he visibly relaxed, realizing just then that he was clenching his hands all this time.

  
  


Without wasting more time he went straight to the kitchen and started to gather essentials for _American style breakfast_ that consisted of some form of eggs and bacon and sometimes, if the customer was desperate enough to pay a fortune for it- which is surprisingly often- pancakes. Men, if kept away from their home for so long, he discovered, craved for home-made meals more than the woman who used to cook it for them. 

The shop, initially, had only traditional Korean breakfast and lunch in their menu, but then, _halmoni_ had the clever idea of introducing American menu to lure more soldiers in. Seonho, the cook, complained the whole day she made him try out new recipes, but she turned a deaf ear to all his protests. 

One day when Seonho failed to turn up in the morning, he was upgraded from the waiter to a cook. As much as he hated cooking, quite contrarily, he was a good cook as attested by the customers. His foreign style recipes got the most praise and so, _halmoni_ transferred that section to him. Although his workload increased, he still got two meals a day as his pay. 

  
  


Did he have any other options given the nature of _work_ he did to earn his living? No. _Halmoni_ didn't bat an eye when she learned about it and for that, he was immensely grateful. Any other person would have spat at his feet instead of letting him work there. But not _halmoni._ Sometimes, while sneaking out with one of her customers, he saw her shaking her head by herself. Those days, he found it harder to meet her eyes. 

  
  


❄️❄️

Lunch breaks were a source of relief for Jongin. An hour of being able to keep his head up. The whole day he had to write and keeping his head down for so long was leading to neck pain, and strain in his lower back.

Although the taste of the food available in the canteen was reason enough to vanish his appetite at once, he was still thankful for the break. He was standing in line in front of the counter when someone called his name. Looking over his shoulder he spotted Sergeant Jackson coming his way. He saluted the man with a smile. 

"Tell me corporal, do you like the taste of this meal we get from the canteen?" The man asked with an amused smile. 

"To be honest sir, I don't. But I don't want to sound picky about food." 

The sergeant dismissed his modesty with a shake of his hand. "Let me treat you to the food of my country. The famous American style breakfast." 

Jongin was surprised. Where would the man get American breakfast? He was unsure if anyone in this secluded island knew anything about it. But he accompanied the man anyway as he couldn't very well decline his superior's offer. Also he was a little curious to taste American style breakfast. 

Once outside the Sergeant looked lost in thought. He stared at the compounds full of prisoners and recited a few lines of a poem.

"Move him into the sun—

Gently its touch awoke him once,

At home, whispering of fields half-sown.

Always it woke him, even in France," 

It took him a few seconds to recognise the poem but he did. "Sir, if I'm not wrong it's Futility by Wilfred Owen." 

The sergeant looked surprised, eyebrows turning upwards. "Yes, it is, Corporal. I see you are a well-read young man." 

Jongin was pleased at the praise. "No sir. Not well-read. I just like poetry so I read sometimes," he said politely. 

"You see Corporal, all of this fighting in the name of ideology is meaningless especially when the persons involved don't even know what that elusive ideology is." The Sergeant shook his head. 

Jongin understood what the man said. Most of the soldiers didn't know actually what communism and capitalism meant. He wasn't sure he knew it that well too, and yet here he was fighting the war. Here so many POWs were spending their lives in captivity. Talking about all this turned the mood somber. 

The Sergeant took him to a run down shop in the corner of the market. He looked inside with confusion as it looked like a simple food shop where you'd get traditional Korean meals, not American breakfast. But he kept his mouth shut in respect. The man was his superior after all. 

He entered the shop gingerly and sat down on a stool. The Sergeant was sitting beside him on another stool and looking. He decided to let the man decide about the menu as he had no idea what American breakfast tasted like. He could only pray it didn't taste too bad because he didn't want to hurt his superior's feelings. 

He was looking around at other customers, most were natives but a few were American. _So maybe the food wasn't that bad._ He was busy watching others when he heard a male voice asking for what they wanted. So he turned to look at the waiter and kept staring. 

It was a young boy. The most beautiful human being he'd ever laid his eyes on. From his short cropped hair to his small hands- everything was a work of art, one that deserved to be studied for hours. 

Jongin got lost in his beauty. 

Suddenly he heard the Sergeant laughing beside him and he flinched. "I see the boy has left an impression on you," the man said in an amused voice. "He's our cook and he cooks really well," he added. 

Jongin wanted to die then. He was caught red handed gaping at a boy by his superior. There could be nothing worse than this. He felt his whole face burning at the embarrassment. He was so lost that he didn't even hear what the man had ordered. 

He felt ashamed at his own reaction to the beautiful boy because he wasn't someone who got easily swayed by one's beauty. It was the inner beauty that mattered to him more, but that was _before_ he saw this boy. Before he knew someone could be so pretty and adorable at the same time. There was something in the boy that caught his attention, which he wasn't quite able to point out yet. 

When the boy returned with their order, he purposefully avoided looking at him, lest he embarrassed himself again. Instead he looked at the food on the plate. It was meat but one that he hadn't eaten before. 

"It's called bacon. Made from pork belly. See if you like it." 

Jongin found out that he really liked the dish. Although he didn't know which one he liked more- the food or the cook. 

  
  


When they left the place he found it hard to concentrate on what the Sergeant was saying. His mind was going back to the boy in that shabby little shop. He mentally slapped himself to become attentive, but mostly failed. 

  
  
  


❄️❄️

Corporal Kim Jong In's journal entry #45

Date:

Time:

Amidst the jaundiced dullness

of the slow moving world,

a sudden appearance of a meteor-

In a colourful burst of energy

I saw you.

I saw you

on a narrow little dirt road to nowhere,

a sparkling pebble 

carelessly left at the side.

Waiting to be picked up by an admiring hand? 

Your allure worthy of the pallet 

full of colours in the hands of a passionate painter

remains undiscovered.

What a shame! 

And I curse these incapable hands of mine 

for it fails to weave pretty words in praise of your beauty, 

Nor are they blessed to capture your 

glorious likeness in a stroke of a brush. 

But like a heavenly scenery forever etched in mind,

You shall remain with me-

My dear beautiful stranger.

  
  
  


❄️❄️

  
  


Jongin came to the shop for the second time alone. There was no particular reason he didn't invite Sergeant Jackson to accompany him, seeing as he was the person to introduce him to this little place of culinary bliss in the first place. But something unexplainable made him decide that he didn't want any other distraction this evening. 

If Jackson came with him, he'd have to talk with him out of politeness and he really didn't want to waste any time having small conversations.

All he wanted was to watch the boy. 

Thoughts of him didn't leave him for once after last evening. It was like being haunted by a ghost, a beautiful one. So Jongin didn't mind the haunting. But by the time the sun was about to set in the horizon, he felt a mysterious pull towards the shop and to the boy working there. 

There was a story his mother used to tell them at bedtime. Jongin remembered bits and pieces of it. It was about a ghost who lured little children away from their houses to kill them later. And when his rational elder sister had asked why the children would be so dumb to follow the ghost, his mother told them of course the ghost looked pretty at first. 

Maybe dumb children grow up to be equally dumb adults. 

"Mister, you want to order something? It's nearing closing time."

The old lady's question broke him out of his thoughts. He flushed, having no idea what to order, but he knew he had to order something from the American menu. The boy was in charge of cooking them. 

He wanted to taste his dishes. 

"Uh... whatever you have in the American menu would be fine," he said, lightly tugging at his left ear. 

"Only pancakes are available for now." 

"That's fine. I'd have one then, please." He looked around for a glimpse of the boy, who was nowhere in sight. 

Was he not working today? All of this anticipation he felt the whole day was for nothing then. 

Jongin felt disappointed. 

" _Halmoni,_ uh...did the boy not come today?" He decided to be brave. 

There was a confused look on the woman's face for a few seconds before she realised who Jongin was asking for. Raising an eyebrow, she nodded a few times. "I see, you have business with him." 

_What business?_

The woman's eyes on Jongin turned disapproving. "I should have known. A native asking for American food!" She scoffed. 

Now Jongin had no idea what the lady was going on about and he kept his mouth shut out of politeness. Was she angry because he ordered capitalist American food? Distaste for anything American was a common feeling among the natives, but then, what was the remark about the business with the boy? Did she somehow sense the reason why he was there? 

He could feel his ears turning hot and red. 

Just then, the boy entered the shop through the back door holding a pile of dishes in his hands. His eyes immediately fell on Jongin, catching him staring. 

Jongin could swear he saw a small smirk on his face before he strode away towards the kitchen. 

He looked down, licking his lips. It seemed that smirk was directed towards him only. Or maybe he was turning delusional now. 

When he looked up he saw the boy nearing the counter, probably to ask about the orders. He was sitting on the bench just beside the counter. 

Up close he looked even more beautiful. The pretty moles on his delicate, long neck fascinated Jongin so much that he caught himself dumbly staring at him again. But this time the boy ignored him. He went back to the kitchen without even a single glance towards him.

Jongin felt slightly disheartened. 

Maybe he did imagine the smirk. Maybe it was for someone else. Maybe up close the boy found him rather plain to give any attention. 

It turned out he was right as the boy didn't show his face again all the fifteen minutes he took to eat his pancakes. He felt a heaviness in his heart, his mouth unconsciously forming a pout. 

Straining his neck, he tried to catch sight of the boy one last time standing at the counter, paying for his food. But nothing. It appeared he wasn't in the shop anymore. Maybe his shift was over and he went home. 

"If you are done peeking into my shop I'd like to get paid for the food I served you."

Jongin blushed furiously. He was caught red handed by the owner. There was no other explanation about what he was doing and so, he didn't try to cover it up anymore, and quickly took the money out of his pockets to pay the woman. 

The woman looked at him for a split second more than necessary. "Go now. He's probably waiting for you outside," she said dismissively. 

Jongin walked out the shop equally confused about what she said just like the first time. But at the same time he could feel hope taking up space inside his chest. 

Hope that he would see the boy again. 

In the end it didn't take him more than a few steps on the path towards his tent when the boy appeared from behind a large boulder, standing a few feet away from him, hands crossed over his chest, head held high. 

Jongin got startled at the sudden appearance and instinctively took a step back. But the moment he registered that this time the boy came looking for him and not the other way around, he felt a sudden urge to smile which he held back in fear of being seen as an idiot. 

Instead he waited for the boy to say something. 

Maybe he came there to confront him about his blatant staring earlier at the shop. The unreadable expression on his beautiful face didn't give away what was going on inside his pretty little round head. 

Jongin mentally chastised himself for being so overly fond of the boy. After all, he knew nothing about him. 

But he was about to find out. 

After an agonizing minute of giving Jongin a scrutinizing look he opened his mouth to say, "You have money, right?" Grabbing Jongin's right hand he started to pull him in the opposite direction. "Let's go."

If he was confused before, he was utterly dumbfounded now. A practical stranger, a meek looking young boy stepped into his personal space without any inhibitions. 

This was a first for Jongin. Even though he was far from being intimidating, he was aware that his height and overall broad structure gave him that aura. 

But apparently not anymore. Not to this person he was so infatuated by since last evening. 

The way this boy, much shorter than him, with narrow shoulders and delicate limbs, was pulling him quite hard, started a weird fluttering in his stomach. He became acutely aware of the strength in those pretty, delicate hands and the rough feel of the callused fingers holding onto his wrist. 

Jongin liked it. Admittedly more than he should. 

But he resisted. He had to. He needed to know what the boy was trying to do. 

"Um...what are you doing? Where are you taking me?" He managed to get out, albeit sounding a little nervous. 

"Why? I'm going to…" He seemed lost for a moment but then his eyebrows raised in a sudden realisation. "Oh! You have your own tent? That's good." 

On top of everything, he had a beautiful voice too. Smooth around the edges with a grainy texture underlying, coupled with what could only be called a haughty quality. If it was up to Jongin he could listen to him talk for hours. 

But no matter how much he liked his voice, he honestly failed to understand the train of logic in his words. "Uh...my tent…" he stuttered. 

"Yes, it's better inside. Don't have to freeze our buttocks off," he said, snorting. 

Now Jongin was seriously alarmed. 

_What in the love of the Lord this boy was referring to?_

"Buttocks!!" he squeaked, eyes wide. 

But Jongin's reaction seemed not to deter the boy in any way. He was like on autopilot, mouthing the words already memorized from having to repeat it many times before. 

"Although, if there are others leering at us or trying to poke me in the rear, then you have to pay double. Okay?" A small frown appeared in between his straight, bushy eyebrows. 

It was like Jongin heard those words fine, but failed to decipher their meaning. Perhaps his brain stopped working at that precise moment. 

So he looked for clarification. "Wait. I don't understand what you're talking about!" His voice got louder by the end. 

  
  


This time there was an abrupt change in the boy's demeanor. His eyes turned hard, mouth thinning into a line. He let go of Jongin's wrist. And Jongin felt the loss of warmth, from the boy's hand, in his bones. 

"So you don't have money," he stated it, the dejection clear in his voice. It wasn't a question but a simple statement. 

But his pensive mood didn't last for more than a few seconds and his eyes turned fiery in anger. 

"Fucker! I got carried away by your look. Should've known you're nothing more than those petty soldiers scurrying and dying like the rats they are!" He spat those words at Jongin with repulsion. 

Jongin himself was now getting agitated by these abrupt insults. "What!! Rats!" He could only repeat the words as he had a tendency to lose the ability of forming coherent sentences when angry or insulted. 

  
  


"Fuck!! Fuck!! Fuck!!" The boy shouted, punching the air. "Next time, don't go looking at something you can't afford to have. The other man was giving me the eye even before you came. But I let him go for you. Just my luck!" Huffing in frustration, he started to walk back towards the shop. 

How long he stood there dumbfounded and staring blankly, he didn't know. After floating on top of pink clouds all day long, now Jongin had trouble coming down to reality. A reality where the person he had been so enamored with was a prostitute. All this time he was foolishly hoping to win his precious attention not knowing that if he could spare only a few _won_ , he could have much more than his attention. 

Anyone could. 

Faced with this cruel reality, all his prior anticipation and excitement was slowly draining out of his body leaving him numb; but then the boy's words rang in his ear. 

_I got carried away by your look. I let him go for you._

"Wait…" he called after the retreating figure even before realising what he was doing. And when the boy turned around, Jongin again found himself in want of words. 

But this time he quickly recovered. Jogging back to the boy he asked, "How much?" 

There was a slight doubtful look in the boy's eyes, but he readily answered. 

"50 _won_ . And not a single _won_ less." 

"Okay. Let's go," he said, sounding a little breathless. 

"To your tent?" 

"No. Take me to that place you were going before."

The boy nodded. 

The time it took them to reach the intended spot seemed to fly away, not giving Jongin enough time to think through everything that happened. He needed to truly ponder about the truth that was so suddenly and unexpectedly revealed to him; a truth, not even in a hundred years he'd have guessed. 

Hundred different thoughts were wrestling inside his head and he failed to grasp one. 

But the one thing he was mostly unsure of was what the hell he'd do once he reached the place the boy was taking him to. 

  
  


The place for their tryst turned out to be a mound similar, perhaps a little taller, to the one he spent his sleepless night just a few days ago. But the boy didn't stop at the top the way he did; rather he went down the slope to the other side of the mound and led him to a place, plane and covered with dense grass. 

But the most convenient thing about the space was that it was almost hidden from view as it was surrounded by large boulders. 

It was a perfect place for clandestine meetings between two star-crossed lovers. 

Or a prostitute and his customer. 

The thought that he wasn't the first man this beautiful, angelic boy had brought to this place came unbridled in his mind. He tried to push it away. 

Now wasn't the time to feel territorial. And especially not with him. 

The boy went ahead and sat down on the grass with a grunt. He patted the space next to him signalling for Jongin to sit there. 

Taking it as a cue, Jongin joined him. 

The sun had already bidden goodbye to the living by the time he had reached the shop. It was getting darker with every minute now. This time of the year, the nights got pretty cold, especially if spent outside, and sans clothes. So they didn't have much time if they wanted to keep their very essential organs intact. 

A cool evening breeze had already started to blow and it was lightly ruffling Jongin's hair. It had grown longer since his days in the front. 

He liked the feeling. It felt like a lover's caress. 

Thinking about a lover brought him to the currently pressing matter in hand. 

Looking at his companion he felt like he was standing on the edge of everything familiar, and a single step from here would be rushing headfirst into an uncharted sea. 

All his life he'd been in love with his best friend. He'd only ever kissed him, held him closer, became one in body and soul. He'd shared all his firsts with him. Now that he thought about it, he was rather inexperienced in the matters of love and such, especially compared to his companion. 

A ball of anxiety started to form inside his head making him question his capability to do the deed they were here for. What if he failed miserably in giving him pleasure? One could argue, for the sake of arguing, that he was paying money for this and that automatically should erase any performance anxiety. 

But Jongin didn't belong to the same club with those selfish bastards. He didn't believe in taking without giving, and yes, money can never be enough as an exchange for sexual pleasure. 

While he was fretting over his inexperience and possible failure in performance, he was silently being watched by the boy. Jongin, while still immersed in these thoughts, suddenly felt the boy's eyes on him and snapped out of his haze immediately. 

_He must think I am a complete moron._

The boy was staring at him silently. Jongin couldn't find any judgement in his big, beautiful eyes though; if he wasn't reading him wrong there was a mild curiosity in his expression. 

This made Jongin relax a bit. And inhaling long, he decided to get the conversation going. Otherwise they'd be sitting here staring at each other the whole night. Because his companion seemed to be a man of few words. 

"Why did you cut your hair so short?" 

Whatever Jongin wanted to say, this was not it. But this was what came out of his mouth, unchecked. And now he wanted to slap himself for this level of idiocy. And to think his professors used to praise him for his oratory skills! 

His whole face was turning hot, and he knew he was turning red too, but hopefully in the dim light of the evening, it wasn't visible. 

There was a brief pause and then he heard the most beautiful sound his ears had ever had the opportunity of hearing. The boy was laughing like a cascading stream; and Jongin was momentarily taken to a wonderland where he was sitting with a cherub beside him, his round eyes turning into crescents as he laughed openly. 

His laugh truly had the power of wiping away all sorts of remorse from this world. And after months of feeling heartache, Jongin finally felt happiness in his heart. The everlasting weight on his chest was slowly being taken away. 

He smiled in return, a genuine one. But then it dropped abruptly as a suspicion crept into his mind. 

"How old are you? Do you have a family? Do they know?" Jongin fired all these questions one after another, without even pausing for breath. When the boy laughed he looked so innocent and pure that Jongin had to doubt his age. He didn't want to get involved with a minor, no matter how attracted he was to him. 

"Old enough," the boy answered offhandedly, pursing his lips in irritation. "And what's with this inquisition? I'm not one of your prisoners, okay? I'm a free man. I take my own decisions and answer to none." 

Jongin got flustered seeing that the boy had taken his concern as an insult and he opened his mouth to apologize, but was interrupted by his very annoyed companion. 

"And I may look small but I'm no weakling. Just keep that in mind." 

The last sentence was uttered as sort of a mild threat but failed to incur fear in Jongin's heart and instead he chuckled quietly. 

This seemed to aggravate the boy even more and before he got any more miffed with him, Jongin raised his hand, palm facing the boy in a placating manner and apologized, "I'm sorry if I have made you feel insulted. Believe me that wasn't my intention at all."

The boy was eyeing him skeptically, looking for any hint of insincerity, and when he found none he seemed to relax. 

"At least tell me your name. I can't possibly keep calling you as 'the boy' in my head," Jongin said with a small smile. 

"Call me whatever you want," he shrugged and then continued, "What's in a name? Call a pig by whatever name, it'd still be as fat." 

He said this in an apparently nonchalant way, but Jongin could clearly see he felt proud of himself reciting those lines. So he stifled his laugh, with great effort, that was dangerously bubbling in his throat. 

"Where did you learn that quote?" He asked, genuinely curious. 

"From an American officer, I think. Don't remember." He seemed a little bored now. 

Jongin tried to lift the mood.

"So should I call you Mr. Egghead then?" He said with a teasing smile. With short cropped hair and a perfectly round head, he looked kind of an egghead. 

"I told you I don't care! Do whatever you want." Unfortunately the boy failed to see the humour in that name.

"You know you're a little prickly-" Jongin started to say with an amused smile but got cut off by him, "-for a whore. Yes, I know," he completed the sentence with a rueful smile. 

Jongin sputtered. "N-no no. I didn't mean it that way. You're completely mistaken."

"Am I? Maybe." He shrugged and before Jongin could say anything else he looked at him pointedly and said, "I think this world is full of nice people, so prickly people like me are here to maintain the balance." 

"You have quite a smart mouth, you know?" Jongin said, snorting. 

"I know. It does nothing but bring trouble."

Lest his mood turned sour again, Jongin tried to change the topic. "So you think I'm nice, huh?" He arched an eyebrow, staring directly at the boy. 

The boy stared right back and said, "Yes, nice and handsome. But you talk too much." There was a playful undertone in his voice. 

The strange fluttering in his stomach from before came back again, and Jongin felt unsure of how to respond. He lightly tugged at his left earlobe. But the boy seemed to understand his predicament. He sat up straight and beckoned Jongin over to him. 

And just like those dumb children, he could only follow him blindly, making him look like a man under a spell. 

He shifted a little towards the boy and their face came closer, so close that Jongin's eyes automatically dropped to his plush lips, so close that he could see the upper lip, resembling a cupid's bow, was slightly fuller than the lower one. He felt an urge to taste them, but first, he looked up at the boy to gauge his mood and discovered that he had also been staring at his lips. 

Their eyes met, silently communicating their desire, seconds before their lips met. 

From the very first time Jongin saw the boy, he'd wondered, if not always consciously, how his lips would feel while kissing them. And now that he was actually doing that, he found out that he liked it very much. 

At first, it was a few close mouthed kisses like the initial testing of waters but soon those light kisses became insufficient for them; and when the boy parted his lips slightly for a deep breath, Jongin used that as a way to deepen the kiss. He pressed harder with his mouth and the boy's lips finally opened in a gasp of surrender. 

It ignited a fire within Jongin. And finally shedding all his hesitation, discomfort and anxiety he let his bare emotions and instincts take over. 

His hands came up on their own accord to hold the boy's face in place, and as he kissed him harder he pulled him close so that he was almost sitting on Jongin's lap. 

The boy was kissing him with equal fervour, his hands alternately roaming all over Jongin's broad back and pressing into his arms. Jongin liked the feeling of being so brazenly touched, making him feel wanted, and awakened a part of him that wanted nothing but possessing this boy. 

He held the boy by his slender shoulders and lowered him down on the ground, settling himself between his opened, inviting legs. The boy lay there with a mildly heaving chest and loose limbs, big eyes glancing up at him- surrender clearly etched in his whole body. 

Jongin took a moment to appreciate the beauty of it all. 

He was hovering over him, weight resting on the elbows, successfully caging in his smaller frame. The arch of the boy's elegant long neck looked particularly inviting to Jongin's eyes, and he dived down to bury his face in it. He nuzzled in his creamy smooth neck, inhaling his scent: clean sweat and something sweet, flowery. 

Jongin was positively getting aroused with each passing second now, and the way the boy curved his neck to give his exploring mouth more access, made him bolder. 

He sat up suddenly, shifting away from his previous position between the boy's legs, and started to undress. The boy, always so skillful to pick up on cues, got up and followed suit. 

Jongin really tried not to gawk at his perfect slender body like a pervert but failed miserably, and it seemed his companion didn't mind being gaped at. He even did a little show of shedding his clothes, gliding the shirt lightly over his smooth skin. 

And it suddenly hit Jongin that those threadbare, faded clothes were actually dulling his glorious beauty. Once rid of them, surrounded by greenery, now turned dark under the moonlight, his white skin almost glowed, making him look like an ethereal being. 

Jongin was about to say something along the line of _You're so beautiful_ but the boy beat him to it. 

"Before we start...I can take spanking and choking but just don't leave bruises on me. Others won't like it," the boy said in a pleading voice. 

If Jongin was his old self, he'd have blushed furiously and become too shy to do anything else.

_Spanking? Choking?_

But this beautiful boy, this magical night had cast some spell on him and he was no longer the introverted, shy man he was before. 

He yanked the boy by his hand to his chest, eyes trained on his big eyes, a confident smirk adorning his lips. "Trust me, I know other ways to make myself remembered than leaving nasty bruises." 

A small, yet sane part of his brain cringed at his cheesy line, and maybe he'd feel mortal levels of mortification later, but at this moment, he was far too gone to feel anything else than a very primal need to bury his dick inside this boy. 

And the way the boy's eyes turned downward, his long, thick lashes fanning his round cheeks, only encouraged Jongin to this new found path of boldness. 

Once again, he pushed the boy lightly to make him lie down, and embarked on a journey of exploring his body with his eager tongue and gentle hands. 

The boy's torso was milky white compared to the tanned hands and legs and so, so smooth. It was like running his hands over fine silk. 

There was something about his perky, pink nipples that captivated Jongin so much so that he paid them special attention, alternately flicking on them and swirling his tongue around, making them hard. 

As a reward he heard the boy's breathy moans. That was enough incentive for him to continue. He gently slid down his body to hold the boy's hardened cock in his hands, giving it gentle tugs, making it jerk in his hands, showing appreciation at the attention it was getting. 

Jongin snaked down one hand to give his own painfully hard cock a few tugs as well, hissing at the sensation.

It was so ready to find the boy's heat. 

Sensing his readiness, his lover for the night turned, trying to get on his hands and knees, most likely the preferred position of his patrons. 

But Jongin stopped him, firm hands on his waist, restraining any movement. He couldn't think of not looking at that beautiful face while fucking him. "Don't turn, stay on your back and spread your legs for me," he said, voice deep and authoritative. 

The boy did what he was told. For a person with a sharp tongue, he was oddly good at following orders, and for some inexplicable reason, Jongin was pleased to discover this fact about him. 

Slicking up his cock with his spit, he bent down to kiss the boy's lips one last time before plunging his cock into his heat. 

They both groaned in unison and Jongin almost lost his sanity. 

In all twenty five years of his life, Jongin hadn't known pleasure of this magnitude. Yes, he'd had his fair share of experience with his best friend and lover before but if those times were like the hearth fire, this was like an erupting volcano. 

The tight heat around his cock felt like heaven, and he threw his head back to let out a loud groan. And when he finally started to plunge in and out of the boy's ass, their moans ricocheted off the boulders. 

Unable to keep their mouths apart for any longer, Jongin leaned down for a hungry kiss. He hummed, pleased to find out the boy shared his level of enthusiasm. 

Jongin was grunting with the effort of fucking him hard when he registered the boy was whispering something to him. He stopped mid-thrust and bent his head sideways to hear what he was saying. 

"Call me Kyungsoo," the boy said in a whisper that sounded almost like he was pleading. 

"A pretty name for a pretty boy," Jongin whispered back, smiling. It was like secrets shared between two lovers in whispers. 

But the boy, Kyungsoo, apparently didn't like being called _a boy._ A frown appeared between his brows. He looked like a kid offended by being called a kid and Jongin felt a strange warmth spreading in his chest. 

With bushy brows, big doe eyes narrowed in annoyance and plump lips almost pouting, the boy called Kyungsoo looked so adorable at that moment that Jongin couldn't resist kissing the tip of his adorable little button nose. 

The action startled them both and they eyed each other for a few heartbeats to see the other's reaction. Teasing and kissing like this while still being joined in the most intimate way possible brought back a little of the awkwardness from before. But none of them said anything and let it go. 

Jongin repositioned himself and resumed fucking Kyungsoo. There was a weird silence now that wasn't there before. A squelching sound from skin slapping against skin and their occasional grunts were the only sound that could be heard. 

They finished pretty quickly after that and dressed themselves as quickly as possible. Both of them were studiously avoiding eye contact when Jongin heard a loud rumble. He'd gone on empty stomach enough times to know what that sound means, and he felt sorry for Kyungsoo. 

"Let me treat you to dinner tonight," he said, glancing at the watch to see the time. It was nine in the evening already. "It's late. Although the food from the canteen tastes very bad but does the job," he said with an embarrassed smile. 

Kyungsoo still avoided looking at him. "Don't worry. I will manage." 

Then there was nothing else to say. Jongin sat there feeling awkward, but Kyungsoo seemed to be waiting for something.

It dawned on him then. 

"Oh! I just...sorry!" Jongin searched his pockets for the money and pulled out a wad of notes. As he started to count them, all colour left his face. 

The pre-decided amount was fifty won, and he had only thirty in hand. 

Why was this happening to him? All his life he'd never had to face this kind of situation, so why now? Why with this boy sitting in front of him? 

His mind was so clouded with a hundred different feelings this evening that he didn't pause to count the money he had with him before agreeing to the amount. Actually he had it but that was spent to pay for the food. And now he was twenty won short. 

_Fifty won and not a single won less._

Jongin sat there rooted in the place and silently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

"What's wrong?" Kyungsoo asked with concern but it didn't take him long to get the gist of the situation. From his expression it seemed it wasn't the first time he was experiencing this sort of problem. 

So he said nothing and took the money from Jongin's hands and quickly left the place. 

How could the evening end in such a horrible way? How could Jongin go from being awkward to being shamelessly bold to being so mortified just in a span of a few hours? What impression did he leave on Kyungsoo? To him Jongin was probably no better than his other cheap customers, who refused to pay up the predetermined amount. 

All these thoughts swirled around inside his head, and he sat there almost dazedly. 

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there when he finally noticed the sweet smell coming from somewhere near. He looked around trying to find the source and saw a few white flowers peeking out from the crack between two large boulders. He went to inspect and squatted down in front of them. And yes, the scent was indeed coming from them. He reached out to touch the petals and found them to be slightly wet from the evening dew.

He wasn't good at recognising flowers and plants, so he didn't know the name of the flowers. Somehow, they made him think of Kyungsoo and his mood soured again. 

He stood up and started to walk up the slope, shoulders hunched. The anticlimactic ending of the evening ruined the memory of everything that happened before. He blew out a deep sigh. Just his luck, just his luck. 

❄️❄️

  
  


_What in the fuck just happened??_

This evening was so weird on so many levels that Kyungsoo didn't know where to start. Okay, so first of all, what madness came over him to tell the man his name? He'd never done that before, no matter how hefty the payment was. 

It wasn't like there was something special about his name or something secret about it that he couldn't share it with others. It was just that he didn't want to. He was giving away his body, selling his most intimate experience without a second thought on a daily basis but this was something he had chosen not to share with anyone. It was something almost sacred to him. 

Interestingly also, he wasn't even sure if his name really was Kyungsoo or not. He had a vague memory of a woman, maybe his mother or sister, he really didn't know for sure, whispering that name while caressing his cheek when he was really very young but he couldn't remember ever having any other memory of that faceless woman. So that could very well be a dream because as far as his memory goes he was always on his own. 

Always an orphan. 

So maybe he really had no name. But he liked to think of himself as a Kyungsoo. He liked the name, so maybe he chose it for himself. Not many people had the chance to choose their own names though, and that thought made Kyungsoo feel a little smug. 

And maybe it seemed like an inconvenience, not having a name, but he found out that it was not, really. Some simply called him _boy_ , some added adjectives before it, _pretty boy, little boy, flower boy._ He didn't mind. It did the work it was supposed to be doing. A few called him _whore_ , and if he was being honest, he liked these men the best. To him, they were simple people and easy to read, easy to deal with. No matter how many times someone calls a crow a peacock, the crow remains a crow until the day it dies. So what was the point of the false flattery? 

But then why did the man have to fuss about his name tonight? And why did he feel the _need_ to hear him call his name when thrusting deep inside him? 

It was the man's fault; his kind eyes and deep voice did something to him. 

And what was that weird thing he did? Kissing him on the nose? It was... disgusting! No one had ever done anything so gross to him before. With all his customers, it had been totally about fucking, relieving the pain in their groin and nothing more. 

But this man seemed different from the very beginning. And maybe he caught the weirdness from him. Yes, that was it. It was all his fault. But there was nothing to worry about as he was sure the man was his one time customer, not seeming like a man to frequently go to a whore. He looked like he believed in true love, and forever and always sort of shit. 

Kyungsoo could bet his money, if he had any in the first place, he got his heart broken back home. It was possibly a case of experimental sex to bring himself back to the right mindset of a free man. He was almost sure the man did it to prove something to himself and his lover. 

Or maybe he just couldn't resist his beauty and charm! He did call him pretty, didn't he? The thought made him chuckle to himself. 

Anyway the man had a disease: self doubt and overthinking. Kyungsoo could read him like an open book so easily that it was almost comical. He couldn't hide his feelings from showing on his face even if his life depended on it. 

Kyungsoo was pondering about the events of the evening, walking back to his house in the dark of the night, when suddenly something black leaped at him from the side of the road and uttering a startled cry he almost fell on his butt. His heart was beating wildly when he finally got a good look at the thing. 

It was a small dog, a stray, its fur completely black. Its eyes glowed in the night but from its stance Kyungsoo figured that it wasn't feral, rather it was cowering from him like it was expecting to be kicked any time soon. Kyungsoo had no intention of kicking the pup though.

He tried to walk around it but the pup was blocking his way and when Kyungsoo tried to shoo it away, it refused to budge from its place and started to whine pathetically. Uttering a curse, he knelt down in front of the pup. "What do you want, huh?" He asked the pup looking straight at its eyes. The dog had kind eyes that were begging him for something, but what, he didn't know. He patted its head lightly. 

Getting up he started on his way when suddenly he felt something soft touching his feet, and looking down he saw the pup placed its tiny paws on his feet, as if silently refusing to let him go. 

Kyungsoo had no experience with animals, other than sometimes being chased by vicious dogs in the market, and he wasn't someone to coo at small animals finding them cute. But this pup was looking at him with so much expectation and pleading that his legs stopped on their own accord. 

He crouched again, this time holding its soft paws in his hands. "What are you telling me? I don't speak your language, you know?" He was talking with the pup in a voice people use with kids and the pup was listening to him intently, its ears twitching, tail wagging lightly. 

Kyungsoo made a decision then. He'd take the pup home, if that's what it wants. He didn't stop to think what and how he'd feed the animal. He had many faults but overthinking things wasn't among them. If he found he wanted to do something, he just did. Consequences be damned. This type of thinking had brought him many miseries but he had no plans on changing himself any time soon. 

He had no power over anything except his own choices, and so he would be damned if he couldn't choose for himself freely. And once he chose something, he never wasted any time over doubting it. 

So that night, Kyungsoo walked back to his house with a new companion and if he was being honest, he liked the company. The pup walked alongside him, wagging its tail whenever Kyungsoo talked to it, showing its appreciation for the attention it was being given and Kyungsoo found himself smiling. 

By the time he reached home, a drizzle had started, and he rushed to get inside with the puppy bouncing happily at his feet, catching up with him easily. 

He was in a rather good mood that night. So when he found out that his kimchi jar was empty and the only option he had was to eat rice, that he got from the shop, with warm water and salt, he didn't feel the usual sense of defeat he'd have felt. 

It didn't take him long to prepare everything and then to feed the puppy who ate with so much enthusiasm that he suspected it had to go without food for a few days. When there is a war going on, it is hard to spare food for stray animals. No one in their village was so well off to adopt puppies or cats and such pets.

And here he was, bringing the stray to his home like he had king's riches hidden under his torn, threadbare blankets. He shrugged, dismissing the worrying thoughts. 

He would give the puppy, which turned out to be a female, a suitable name tomorrow. But now he needed to rest. 

He was on the cot, about to slip inside the blankets when the pup leapt onto it and waited for Kyungsoo to get inside the blankets, and then made herself cozy curling into herself atop the blankets, near Kyungsoo's feet. It warmed his heart for the tiny presence with him; he didn't give much thought to it before, but now he realized the nights had always felt lonely. 

After many days, Kyungsoo slept with a smile on his face. 

And he dreamt of feather light kisses, whispered words of praises and a pair of large, yet gentle hands worshipping his body, the contrast of brown on his white skin more pronounced in the moonlight. 

He dreamt it was his first time, being held so softly, being loved so honestly. There was a tender give and take, losing a piece of himself and gaining another from the other. He sent silent thanks to God for finally, finally the void within him was filled in and the puzzle fit. 

But his dream was over too soon and in the harsh daylight it felt too cruel to him for he couldn't remember gaining anything in his life, maybe, gaining was not for the likes of him. Maybe, he was born to lose, always giving away a part of himself. Sometimes, he wondered how long it would be before there was nothing to give, before he lost himself completely, if he hadn't already. 

Rubbing the sleep off from his eyes, Kyungsoo took a deep breath stretching his limbs. 

He had no idea that another day of hard reality awaited him. 

❄️❄️

The day started as usual, with the small exception of Meokmool, he was rather proud of himself for coming up with the name, wagging her tail when he was leaving his home. Kyungsoo left the puppy unleashed. He knew she wouldn't go anywhere. 

As he was walking to the shop, he hummed a tune he had heard at some American soldiers' tent he couldn't remember now, yet the tune stayed with him. Most of the time he found himself humming this tune whenever he was feeling content. 

There were a hundred things to worry about- his roof that really needed a repair before the monsoon started in earnest, or the fact that he needed to do something about side dishes if he didn't want the repeat of rice and water from last night, and the most worrisome of it all that no one seemed interested in getting to know him up close and personal for the better part of the week now with the exception of the man from last night, of course. 

But if Kyungsoo was good at anything, it was pushing these worries to the back of his mind for later, when the problems straight out stared him in the eyes. Not before his back was straight against the wall. 

And he did just that. Threw his worries into a box and closed it tight when he saw something that could be a great treat for Meokmool. He bent down to pick up the twig from the side of the road, examining it. It was the perfect size for a chew toy. He hoped the pup would like it seeing as she tried to chew on his toes last night, and she was quite persistent about it until he threatened to throw her off the cot. 

By the time he neared the shop he still had a small smile lingering on his lips when he saw a figure in front of the shop that could only mean trouble. 

"Hello, Naeun!" Coming up from behind, Kyungsoo greeted the woman with barely concealed amusement and when the woman glared at him he let his grin show. 

"Oops! Sorry! I forgot you prefer your American name over your given name now," he said holding his hands up in a placating manner, "My apologies Nancy." 

The jab didn't go unnoticed by the woman and she grimaced before snorting, feigning nonchalance as if this teasing was way lower than her level, far too childish. 

"What do we owe this pleasure this morning?" Kyungsoo asked, looking like he was enjoying teasing her.

But if taken a closer look, anyone could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the unease concealed under the show of uncaring amusement. When Naeun looked like she wasn't planning to answer, he looked around the shop trying to gauge what was going on from _halmoni_ and Seonho's tight expressions. What he saw only increased the tightness in his chest. 

"I don't want you to suffer for him. It's better if you get rid of him now when it's not too late." Naeun said to _halmoni,_ the warning barely concealed in her voice. She threw a flirty glance at Seonho and then finally looked at him. There was so much hatred in her eyes that Kyungsoo felt winded. 

_Why did this woman hate him so much?_

Naeun threw one backward glance at him before exiting the shop. 

"What was that?" Kyungsoo asked the occupants, failing to conceal the agitation in his voice. If she hated him, it wasn't like he bought roses to give to her. Honestly, the feeling was kind of mutual. 

Ever since he started his little side business, Naeun, the one who took it on herself to be in charge of entertaining the soldiers, couldn't stand him at all. She had become sort of a leader of the women eager to _look after the soldiers who are far away from their home and craving warm touches._

Her words, not his. He couldn't care less about what the soldiers were craving. He had plenty on his own plate. 

Maybe if he relented to her offer of sharing a portion of his income with her, then he would've been under her _protection._

Kyungsoo still remembered the day when she had come up to him with this ridiculous proposal with a very self-righteous, pleased smile on her comely face, and he distinctly remembered how the smile had left her face like she'd sucked on a lemon when he laughed out loud at her absurd proposal. 

Since then, he'd been plagued by petty problems. Just a few days ago, he knew one of her minions stole his new shoes but he had no way of proving this. Since that day, she'd always been a nuisance. But nothing worth more than a few curse words. 

Kyungsoo could argue with her about how the men that chose him had different inclination and that they would never be interested in her or the other women under her. But he knew it would be useless because he was sure it wasn't about losing her customers, it was about control. She wanted to control him, boss him around with a flick of her finger. But that, he would never let her do. 

Not in this lifetime, at least. 

When no one answered him and resumed their work, silently shutting him out, he felt nervousness growing inside him. He was sure she was talking about him but then, why no one was saying anything to him? 

He wasn't in the mood to play this hide and seek game. He went straight to the counter where _halmoni_ was sitting, preparing the cashbox, counting coins. There were no customers yet. "What did she say? I know it was about me. So tell me," he demanded, albeit in a voice louder than he usually used with her. 

She didn't spare him a glance. "Nothing you need to waste your time over. Go to the kitchen now." Her voice seemed tense and Kyungsoo knew not to pester her anymore. 

He was walking back to the kitchen, head down, when she spoke up again. "And boy, be careful how you talk to me. Don't go raising your voice again." 

Kyungsoo peeked over his shoulders. She was still not looking at him but he could clearly discern the annoyance and warning underlying in her voice. 

Kyungsoo's good mood from the morning was completely ruined now. He busied himself in cutting the vegetables needed to prepare the breakfast and if he was using a little bit of force more than necessary to cut the onions, making the staccato sound of chopping almost echo in the kitchen, no one said anything. Seonho was kneading the dough right next to him, studiously ignoring him. 

Worry was spiralling inside his head making him feel slightly nauseous. He hated suspense, hated to stay in the dark. 

Kyungsoo was eyeing Seonho, momentarily letting go of the onions, trying to figure out if he'd tell him what that woman was saying about him. Although he'd been working side by side with Seonho from the time he started cooking here, he couldn't call the man his friend. Kyungsoo wasn't very friendly, most of the time he felt awkward around people, not knowing what to say. He sucked at small talk and Seonho too seemed to be a little awkward around him. So they never talked more than necessary. 

But today Kyungsoo needed some answers. 

Probably Seonho felt him staring and stopped kneading the dough to look at him questioningly. 

"What was she saying?" Kyungsoo asked in a hushed voice, not wanting the owner to find them wasting time talking. 

"Nothing important. Don't worry." Seonho said with a shake of his head but he wasn't satisfied with the answer. "Tell me man. I need to know if it's about me." 

Now Seonho seemed a little uneasy, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. When he started to fidget Kyungsoo understood it was something related to his other job. Otherwise Seonho wouldn't be so uncomfortable. He felt the anxiety rising in him. "Tell me," he asked again and added a _please_ this time. 

"She had been threatening _halmoni_ about you and this is not the first time either," Seonho said, avoiding looking at him. 

"Threatening? But why?" Kyungsoo sounded genuinely confused. 

"Don't you get it? If she tells the customers about your-" Seonho seemed to catch himself before speaking his mind and then continued, "other activities, no one will come to this shop anymore." He talked in a hushed voice but looked a little agitated. It seemed he was worried about the future of the shop and his own, and the way he spoke, Kyungsoo couldn't not hear the blame underlying his words. 

Seonho never talked about anything that was not necessary for their work as cooks in this shabby little shop; but Kyungsoo now knew how he felt about his _other activities_. And he couldn't blame the man for it though. Afterall, everyone was trying to make a living here. 

Kyungsoo peeked over his shoulders at the front of the shop. Customers had started to show up. So he occupied himself with the work at hand and pushed this new source of worry at the back of his mind, to be attended later. 

  
  


When Kyungsoo was walking back to his house that evening, he was not in a good mood. Another day went by with no one taking special interest in him and he desperately needed money to mend his broken house. But when he asked _halmoni_ to pay him with coins rather than food, she just stared at him for a minute and told him to find a better paying job if the present one was not up to his liking. 

He was walking with his head down, rolling the twig between his fingers, that he found earlier in the morning and that was why he missed the man approaching him and almost crashed against him but the man stepped out of his way at the last moment, making Kyungsoo murmur an apology before going on his way when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. 

He halted in his step, looking up at the familiar face of the man that might or might not have been in his dream last night. He was wearing his uniform and it made him look so handsome that Kyungsoo found himself unable to look away, and when it finally dawned on him that he was gaping at his customer, he felt his face turning hot, and looked down at the hand holding his arm. 

The man had large, veiny hands that somehow looked very elegant, and Kyungsoo couldn't help himself thinking about how those hands felt on his body last night. He perked up at the possibility of a repeat of last night's activities because he needed the money. At least that was what he told himself. 

The man cleared his throat, making him look up again. "Um…last night I...uh…" he started to rummage inside his pockets and pulled out some notes and offered them to him. "I felt really bad for not giving you the full amount we decided on before. So I came here first thing after my duty ended." 

Kyungsoo knew he should be happy to get the money but for some unknown reasons he didn't feel it. "No need to feel sorry. Happens all the time," he said, taking the money but before putting it inside his pocket, he paused. "Actually I asked more than my usual rate. So just take it back," he added as an afterthought and offered the money back to the man. 

The man looked surprised. "Why did you ask for more from me?" He said with a curious look on his face. Kyungsoo expected him to be annoyed at getting deceived but he looked rather amused. He changed his mind, it wasn't easy to read the man like he thought last night. 

"You looked like a nice man. I told you last night too." Why he avoided looking at the man he didn't know. 

The man snickered. "In other words I looked like an idiot," he said with a smile on his face that momentarily stunned Kyungsoo. Last night the moonlight wasn't doing justice to his darker skin but now under the sunlight, the man was practically glowing and Kyungsoo felt himself unable to look away. 

They stood there like that staring at each other but soon the man cleared his throat and looked away first. He stared down at his hands. "Do you want to-" he started but was interrupted by the man. 

"I should go now. It was...it was nice meeting you Kyungsoo." The man turned around without saying anything else. It looked like he was in a hurry to get away from there. 

Kyungsoo stared at the retreating man. He was right about one thing after all. Last night was an exception, an experiment. Kyungsoo stared at his hands to realize the man didn't take the money back and he scoffed. He should have felt relieved getting the extra money but rather there was a tightness in his chest that he dismissed with a shrug. 

❄️❄️

  
  


If Jongin had thought guard duty would be boring it was because he didn't have any idea how absolutely boring it would be to sit inside a tent, mostly alone, and write pages after pages of dry official documents, mostly comprising of day to day reports of the whereabouts in the POW, that not to mention are mostly watered down versions of the actual events. 

Fights were unavoidable inside a POW where people of two opposite beliefs were residing so close, and most often they turned bloody but Jongin was strictly instructed not to report everything as it was. If there were four fights in a week he reported only one; if a total of ten prisoners needed medical assistance, the number was not more than five in his report. 

Jongin was bored to death, cursing the day he stepped forward as the only guard knowing English. From that day onwards Colonel Harrison took a liking to him and as a result, he found himself confined inside the tent of the Colonel, doing all sorts of secretarial works instead of being outside doing the actual duty he was initially assigned. 

Most of the time Jongin found himself distracted while writing repetitive reports and found his thoughts wandering to a beautiful, whimsical boy.

It had been three weeks since he last saw Kyungsoo outside the shop, and thoughts of the boy randomly popped up in his mind. Just yesterday he had been eating the most bland porridge from the canteen and was reminded of the pancakes he ate in the shop and how they tasted so good, making him miss kyungsoo's cooking. A few days ago a corporal asked for eggs and he immediately thought of Kyungsoo's cute egghead. 

It was becoming embarrassing. 

It wasn't like Jongin didn't know the pointlessness of his infatuation over the boy, he knew there was no future for them as he wasn't, hopefully, going to live on this island for the rest of his life and given his tendency to become overly attached to people easily, it was better not to engage in casual bodily pleasures with the boy. He had learned his lesson by giving too much of himself to the wrong person, he had no intention of repeating the same mistake. Also being the only earning member of the family he had responsibilities. He couldn't possibly selfishly spend his meagre salary on nightly pleasures. 

God only knows how hard he had worked to keep the book shop open only having to abandon it indefinitely, making him worry over how his family was managing in his absence. He truly hoped the money he sent was enough for them. So, he had no right to be yearning after a boy who wasn't even _his_ in the first place and never would be. 

He hoped he'd get over his infatuation sooner than later because it made him restless and a little sad, and he was tired of feeling sad. What he needed was time. If he could let his bestfriend go, he could surely forget one moonlit night spent with a beautiful boy. 

❄️❄️

Jongin was happy to be outside after writing requisitions, for the better part of the day, for more materials needed to build dams in the island. Although the island was an ideal place to keep prisoners as there was practically no way of them running away but the lack of sources of water was a major source of concern, and with the unending numbers of incoming ships full of prisoners, the problem was becoming alarming, making Colonel Harrison to order building dams all over the island. 

He was assigned to oversee the construction site near compound C-4, far from his tent. While waiting for the truck to arrive he lit a cigarette, absent-mindedly watching the smoke spiralling upwards while his mind started to worry over his family, especially over the fact that they hadn't sent him any letters for quite a while now. 

Once Jongin started to worry over something, he couldn't stop. It was like an endless street, where he had to keep on walking to find the way out but oftentimes, it seemed, there was no way out. 

So many things could've gone wrong- his mother could have had another asthma attack, his eldest sister, carrying her first child without her husband by her side because he too had had to join the army, could have complications in the pregnancy, the bookstore could have lost all the customers. And the list could go on like this. What he hated the most was he had nothing he could do to make these worries go away. 

He was quietly sulking when the horn of the truck broke into his thoughts, and quickly stubbing out the cigarette, he hopped on the truck. He scanned the other ten guards, assigned to various construction sites, and was relieved to spot a familiar face. Minjae noticed him and looked equally happy to find a friend. 

Jongin went to sit beside him. "I'm assigned to the site near C-4 and you?" 

"Oh! So we have the same site then," Minjae said, sounding genuinely excited to be able to spend time with him and it made him happy too. He patted Minjae's back before placing his hand on his shoulders.

It wasn't easy for Jongin to open up to strangers, but there was an openness in Minjae's face that drew him to the man from their first meeting. Minjae was one of those people who were always content and always went out of their way to make others feel accepted. Jongin liked him. He hoped they could stay friends even after the war, and given the fact that they were both from Seoul, hopefully it wouldn't be a problem. 

By the time they reached their designated site, Jongin's mood was much lighter than before. All this time he was confined inside the Colonel's tent, it turned out Minjae was travelling back and forth between different construction sites, and he had so many stories to tell. Minjae was a good storyteller, enticing all the other guards including Jongin. 

They hopped off the truck when they reached their site. "Let's go," Minjae said, slapping him on the back and Jongin grunted. 

"Aren't you a little too excited to be standing on your feet for the next five hours just to watch people building a stupid dam?" Jongin eyed him with barely concealed irritation. Minjae laughed it off, not minding his words at all. 

Just an hour ago he was dying to get out of the tent and now that he was there he couldn't find it in himself to be excited. There was something seriously wrong with him as he wasn't this moody before. 

Before his infatuation with someone who could never be his. 

Shaking his head and grumbling to himself about getting a grip, he followed Minjae, who had already proceeded to the site. 

❄️❄️

Kyungsoo was feeling a little guilty and a lot scared to be ditching the shop to work on this site. If _halmoni_ got a whiff of this, she'd surely chase him out of the shop and never let him set a foot inside again; but in his defence he needed actual money to thatch the roof of his house, and he'd asked her to pay in coin but she'd refused. 

So here he was in the construction site far away from the shop, at least he hoped it was far away for someone to recognise him and tattle back to _halmoni._

Bending down to lift up a sack of cement, grunting with the effort, he shuddered at the thought of what he had to do to get this work for the day. 

Construction work was strictly for the POWs only and no locals were allowed to take part. The pay wasn't good but at least it was something, making most of the locals try to sneak in and as a result making the authority stricter in doling out punishment. 

So he knew it'd be hard to find someone willing to lend their I-Card to him, especially when he had nothing to give in return except what he was good at. 

After scanning the site, he had spotted one man with a broken leg that clearly rendered him incapable of the heavy lifting. So he'd gone to the man with a proposition of sharing the pay sixty-forty in exchange for the I-Card, but the man had outright declined him. Instead he'd had another proposition. 

"I know you only entertain big, bad officers and don't give us lowlifes the time of your day, but I've heard enough praise for your pretty little mouth for me to let it go without it being wrapped around my dick first," the man said in a scratchy voice, the look on his beady eyes seemed a little unhinged. 

Kyungsoo shuddered again at the thought. But what disturbed him the most was that the man knew him, even though he never slept with any POWs. But on a second thought, as there weren't many male prostitutes, probably none besides him, it probably wasn't so weird for the POWs to know about him. He shrugged the worry off. At least the man promised to let him take the whole pay. 

Kyungsoo was halfway to the dumping spot when his eyes landed on a familiar tall figure coming his way, making him do a double take. There was something captivating in the set of the man's wide shoulders, his strong set of jaws, and his long strides that forbade Kyungsoo to look away. But soon he noticed the man wasn't alone and his slow brain caught up on the fact that it wouldn't end well for him if he was seen by the man. 

He made a beeline for the opposite direction, where he was coming from. But it was already too late. The man spotted him already and was quickly coming his way, a small smile on his face making him look even more handsome. Kyungsoo's heart started to beat a little faster than before. He cursed himself, grimacing for being so sappy over a customer, but then he'd never had one so handsome before. 

Three weeks of no show from the man and almost dreaming of him every night might have messed up his head a little. 

He was standing at an awkward position, body half twisted, ready to flee. The man noticed it and the sack of cement he was holding and a frown formed between his brows. "What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding skeptical. 

He was alarmed. If this man reported him he'd get flogged, which he had no intention of receiving, ever. He needed to find a way out of this. 

His face must have shown what he was feeling for the man to reach out and hold his arm. "Don't worry. I won't report you. But why are you here?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Kyungsoo eyed him, still a little suspicious, for a few seconds before relaxing and taking his arm out of the man's hold. "I need money." He didn't elaborate and the man nodded. 

It looked like the man was about to say something but then held back. "But you do know it is risky, right?" he asked instead, concern clearly showing on his face. 

He wasn't sure what he was feeling then. As far back his memory goes, no one ever worried over him, not even a little. So this man he barely knew, trying to show concern over his well-being made him irritated. If he'd managed this long alone, he could do it in future too. 

He bit back the answer he was about to give. No point in aggravating the man when his fate depended on him. "Yes I know but I need to mend my house before the monsoon," he said, rubbing his ear. He sounded almost like he couldn't believe he was giving this information away about himself. Realising he talked too much in front of this man he pursed his lips. 

The man was about to say something when a loud cough interrupted him. They both got startled, and it was like both of them noticed the other man standing just a few paces away, all this time watching them. Kyungsoo stepped back from the man, realising they were standing a little too close, before the shorter man spoke up. 

"I think we're getting late, Jongin," he said, giving a pointed look at his companion. 

For some reason Kyungsoo liked the name, Jongin. It suited him well- kind, honest, confident and a little vulnerable at the same time. Then he came to his senses that he was practically wasting his time over a name of a one-time customer, making him scoff at his own foolishness. 

He spared a last glance at Jongin's retreating back and then walked towards the dumping spot. 

❄️❄️

  
  


They say accepting one's weakness is a step towards overcoming it, but maybe Jongin was an exception. The three weeks he had been away from Kyungsoo, he'd been telling himself it was for the best, constantly reminding himself all the reason why he couldn't let himself be more attached to the boy. 

But from the moment he laid his eyes on the boy it seemed he forgot everything. The whole day he spent stealing looks at Kyungsoo and then mentally scolding himself, making him frustrated even more than before. He knew it was fruitless, one sided, pathetic infatuation, but probably he was a glutton for punishment. Apparently being absolutely heartbroken once wasn't enough for him, so now he was dreaming of building castles on quicksand. 

Funny how the person responsible for his turmoil wasn't interested in him at all, unless of course he could _pay_ for it. A sudden anger surged inside him, not knowing who it was actually directed to, him or the beautiful boy who was unknowingly causing him all this confusion and self-pity. 

He quickly stole a glance at Kyungsoo, who was busy carrying a heavy sack of sand. How his small frame was carrying all that load the whole day, was a mystery to him but it made him feel proud of the boy. He stared at him some more. Kyungsoo, face red with exertion, sweat patches on the shirt, bulging veins in hands, captured all of his attention, making him literally incapable of looking away. 

Soon enough something darker stirred its head inside Jongin. Memories of naked skin on skin from that night flooded his mind, and he could feel his temperature rising. Too ashamed at his own body's reaction, he forced himself to look away and accidentally made eye contact with Minjae. 

He felt his friend's gaze to be a little too observant for his liking. So he gave him a small smile before turning away. Minjae must be curious about Kyungsoo, but he hadn't said a word about him yet. Feeling tensed, he started to nibble on his lower lip. 

Not long after, Minjae came to him, a lit cigarette in hand, and offered it to him. Feeling grateful he offered Minjae a small smile. "Thank you," he mumbled before taking the cigarette. He wasn't aware he was craving the smoke so much. "So who's the pretty boy?" Minjae finally asked, sending him into a coughing fit. 

Minjae patted him on the back and when his coughing stopped he continued with his questioning. "I didn't know you are talking with POWs now." Although Minjae didn't sound like he was suspecting anything Jongin felt uneasy, body stiff with tension. 

He'd rather not talk about Kyungsoo with anyone but he had to give an answer. "Um...he…I saw him once. He was fighting with another man and got hurt. I was just asking if he was okay," he tried to explain, hoping that he didn't _sound_ as unsure as he was feeling. But it was apparently an acceptable explanation as Minjae didn't say anything other than "oh". Fights, small or big, were a regular occurrence after all. 

Just then a loud raucous broke out at the farthest end of the site and both of them sighed, tired of the constant fighting among the prisoners. They went to inspect reluctantly.

Apparently someone dropped a sack of cement on someone's feet and that somehow involved more than ten people fighting. Before it could escalate any further, Jongin and Minjae interrupted them. No guards were allowed to carry any weapon other than the lone baton and it was time like this they were at a disadvantage. After using force and putting the batons to good use, they were successful in breaking up the fight. However, it took them almost ten more minutes to make everyone resume working. 

By sundown, Jongin was more than ready to call it a day but he couldn't leave the site without looking for Kyungsoo one last time. He wasn't trying to talk to him again as he wasn't sure if there was anything left to say, he just wanted to make sure he got the money he risked getting punished for. But the boy was nowhere in sight. 

He was about to leave, albeit a little dejected, when he accidentally spotted the boy, not too far from him, talking with a man, who must be the one to lend him his identity. He stopped in his way, something about the man didn't feel right to him, and when the man suddenly grabbed Kyungsoo's butt he felt an urge to walk over there and slap the hand away. 

But he didn't as it wasn't necessary because Kyungsoo did it himself, which brought him weird satisfaction. Without waiting to see any further interaction between them, he turned around and walked over to the truck, a sour taste in his mouth. 

  
  
  


Jongin stared, wide awake, in the darkness inside the tent. His mind full of scattered thoughts, unable to quite hold onto one for longer than a few minutes. His home, the bookstore, his mother, the fate of the war, and mostly Kyungsoo. Maybe today shouldn't have happened; maybe it'd have been better if he never met the boy. 

He scoffed at remembering the time when he first came to the island and was whining about the lack of activities here. There weren't many activities even now, but his mind had plenty to dwell on. The way he was often losing a train of thought only to stop and wonder about what Kyungsoo was doing right then, if he had a good day at work, if he had eaten, and mostly if he had thought about _him_ even once, was turning alarming. 

Tomorrow he'd think about overcoming this almost obsessive infatuation he had, he promised himself. 

That night he dreamt of Taemin. They were back in his bookstore, sitting side by side, sharing a single cigarette just like the old times. Instead of begging him to stay like he did before, he congratulated his best friend on his wedding. And he did it with a genuine smile on his face. It felt good to share a smile with Taemin after a long time. 

❄️❄️

  
  


As Kyungsoo stepped out of his house he was welcomed by stormy winds and an overcast sky. For a person living in a house with several holes in the roof, it was weird that he liked this weather. But he didn't like the rain, he liked the possibility of rain, that feeling of not knowing whether it would actually rain or not. If it did then he'd be in trouble, but if it didn't he'd just enjoy the smell of the rain in the wind, and fall asleep to the lullaby of howling wind outside. 

After feeding Meokmool the leftover rice he locked the door today, not wanting her to wander outside and get lost in the rain, if it rained. Although she wouldn't be much better off inside the house, seeing how the floor got flooded every time there was a heavy rain. If he could just bring her with him to the shop, he wouldn't have to worry about her, but he knew _halmoni_ wouldn't allow Meokmool inside the shop; and he didn't want to piss her off anymore than she already was. 

It had been a week from when he went to work at the construction site instead of going to the shop, and _halmoni_ had given him a warning the next day right when he stepped foot inside the shop. She said it was his last warning and he believed her. She was a woman of her words. 

So he decided to lay low and be on his best behavior for now. 

Unfortunately luck wasn't on his side. 

He spotted a crowd in front of the shop, seemingly angry from the way he could hear faint shouting from meters away. He frowned and started to walk faster. People fought all the time here, but the shop was frequented by mostly high ranking officials and some locals, none of them prone to physical fighting. Before this POW camp, the island was actually very quiet, with a simple, rural lifestyle. Things became complicated with the advent of these outsiders. 

As he neared the shop, he could sense there wasn't any actual fighting going on. Rather, people were protesting against something, but he wasn't close enough to understand what they were saying. As he took a few more steps towards the shop, one word shouted with hatred- _whore_ \- reached him, and he stopped in his tracks. 

Suddenly he didn't want to know what was going on anymore; he didn't want to face the crowd. So this was it. His cover was snatched and now everyone knew what he was. No, that was not true. Most of the regular customers of the shop knew about him. It was an open secret. But now the truth was out in the open staring at everyone, agitating them. 

He knew who did this, and he could do nothing about it. Naeun did warn him though, but he was foolish enough to ignore it. He'd underestimated her, her hatred towards him. He'd been callous about what could really happen if his truth came out in the open. It was his tendency to push everything back to his mind until it wasn't possible to ignore it anymore. He was going to pay the price for it. 

From the day he started to work at the shop, at least the worry over finding food was gone. He didn't like cooking but there he felt a sense of accomplishment, of doing something right when people praised his cooking and especially asked for dishes made by him. And as closed off _halmoni_ looked, he knew, in a way, she cared for him. Although she never paid him in coins, no matter how many times he asked, she never let him go without food, at times sending Seonho to his house to deliver his portion because he couldn't come for being sick. 

And even though Seonho had never been his friend, working side by side with him had been comfortable. He realized he hadn't been appreciating his work enough, now that he lost it. He scoffed ruefully. 

He didn't know how long he was standing in the middle of the dirt road, lost in his thoughts, when someone ran into him, almost toppling him over. He glanced at the American soldier who was now holding him by the hand helping him regain his balance. Stepping aside, he uttered a small _sorry._

The man eyed him looking like he was contemplating something, the sun gleaming through his blond hair. "Let's go", he said simply, walking off towards the woods. 

Kyungsoo never slept with this man before but the man must have seen him working in the shop and just now learned what he was and after scrutinizing him, deemed suitable to his taste. 

He should feel happy as he still needed the money, now as it seemed he lost the work at the shop. But he failed to feel anything. It was like his own emotions were shutting him out. He strudged after the man not actually bothering about where he was going, increasingly feeling numb inside. 

When he realized where the man took him he was a bit startled. Why the man chose the woods he couldn't understand. He'd fucked in a lot of places that were not so suitable for fucking, but never inside the woods. He didn't get much time to wonder though as he was roughly pushed against a tree, a strong hand holding him in place. 

The man didn't waste any time. Quickly pulling down his pants, he started to ram him from behind, jerking him forward and chafing his chin against the tree. 

He wasn't feeling numb anymore. Pain. He felt excruciating pain. But he didn't quite know where it was coming from- his body being ruthlessly taken or his heart that was crushing with the realisation that in this whole wide world he was so, so alone. There was not a single soul who he could share his pain, his worries with. 

If he dropped off the face of the earth, not a single person would mourn his absence. 

He gritted his teeth, refusing to let the man know his pain. His eyes stung with unshed tears while he patiently waited for it to end.

Fortunately the man didn't take long and even paid him a hundred _won_ , the highest he'd ever been paid. Other times, it would make him relieved because he could finally afford the repair of his house, but he felt empty inside. 

Pocketing the money he stared lifelessly at the direction where the man went to leave the woods. After a few moments, he slid down the tree trunk and sat down on the damp floor. Holding his face in his hands he cried his heart out, body shaking with the sobs. 

❄️❄️

  
  


After many days of suppressed anxiety Jongin was finally feeling light hearted. He received a letter from his mother informing him everyone was in good health and despite learning that the shop wasn't doing well, which was kind of expected when a war is going on, he was honestly feeling relieved. Financial difficulties he could manage, but health was out of his control. He just had to spend less for himself, which he already did, and send most of his salary home. He had to stop wasting money on cigarettes. 

The thought of stopping smoking gave him a slight anxiety. He'd been smoking since his university years, and although it wasn't like he didn't think of quitting, he was just too weak to let the temporary lightness it brought go. But now he had to do it for the sake of his family. He pulled the packet he had inside his pants' pocket out. There were only three left so it felt like a good time to finish one. 

He walked outside of the tent where he was yet again writing letters to the headquarters, and marched towards the woods. He didn't want to share the cigarette with anyone, which was a little petty of him but it was one of the last three, and it was almost impossible if any of his fellow guards saw him. Offering cigarettes was a basic courtesy in the military. 

Today was windier than usual but he wasn't complaining. It felt oddly good, almost liberating. Like he could fly away with the stormy winds. Just as he was about to light the cigarette, content look on his face, there was a rustling nearby, and a few seconds after the blond head of sergeant Williams peeked out from the woods. 

Jongin immediately stood at attention, which the sergeant ignored and walked away towards his tent. _Maybe he'd come to relieve himself._ He lit the cigarette with a shrug, a little offended by the sergeant's rudeness, but it wasn't something new. Most American higher ranking soldiers were dismissive in their attitude towards the native soldiers. It was the norm. 

Having finished the cigarette he was about to get back to the tent when he heard rustling in the woods again. And this time when he looked over his shoulders his eyes met with Kyungsoo's red, puffy ones, and he stopped in his tracks. 

Kyungsoo looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He took off in the opposite direction of the shop even before he could utter a single word. He didn't try to stop him. He let him go. 

Suddenly Jongin felt so tired. He felt like he lost all the strength in his body to be even standing upright then. So he plopped down on the ground, staring vacantly at the space. And for a rare grateful moment, his mind was devoid of any thoughts. 

  
  


After the encounter with Kyungsoo near the woods, Jongin was in a haze. He didn't remember standing up, walking back to the tent. But here he was, writing letters, and reports that had zero meaning to him. He was positive he made many mistakes today, and yet failed to find any remorse in himself, or any worry about how the Colonel would react to his mistakes. 

He just wanted to be free. He wanted to howl like the wind outside, and fly away to a faraway land, somewhere he wouldn't need a heart to live. No heart, no heartache. 

  
  


It was in this sort of state, he found himself climbing up the mound to go to the wretched place where all of this started. Where he traded his sanity for a few delicious touches. 

Now that he was here for a second time, in a completely different situation, this place didn't feel so magical anymore. The large boulders looked ugly even, nor the grass looked that green. He snorted ruefully, remembering how excited he was the first time he'd come here. 

He sat down, hiding his face on his knees, arms wrapped around them. He didn't know why he felt so _angry_ and who he was angry with. Kyungsoo's red eyes flashed in his mind again, and he felt like punching something. In the short time he'd seen the boy he'd always been lively. A little stingy sometimes, but he seemed like someone who's a fighter. But today he saw defeat in those beautiful eyes. 

Jongin felt a physical pain in seeing Kyungsoo like this. 

A suspicion crept into his mind. _Did Sergeant Williams do something to him?_ He wasn't a kid to think they were there talking about the weather, and that thought made him even more frustrated. But he refused to dwell on this. When he first started to like Kyungsoo, after knowing his secret, he accepted all the parts of him.

He felt helpless. Even if Williams did something to him, he could do nothing against a higher ranking soldier. This feeling of helplessness was making him so restless that he was craving for a cigarette, but the remaining two he'd already smoked after the encounter with Kyungsoo. 

He was tapping his head on his knees repeatedly when he heard faint sounds of footsteps coming this way, making him look up from where he was still sitting clutching his knees. 

It was Kyungsoo. 

He stared at him dumbly for a few seconds. Then he hastily stood up, tugging at his shirts and patting his pants, trying to make them wrinkle free. He even tried to correct his disheveled hair before he gave up, becoming self-conscious by the way Kyungsoo was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Jongin hated not being able to read his thoughts. Hated his capacity to carefully hide all his feelings under that mask of nonchalance because he, for the life of him, could never master this quality. He was envious of Kyungsoo. 

Jongin was at a loss of words. _How did he know he was here? Why was he here?_ Many questions raised their head but he didn't know where to start. He knew he saw something that he wasn't meant to, and now he was feeling unsure of how to proceed from now on. 

So he stood frozen in his place, waiting for Kyungsoo to start the conversation. He'd listen to whatever he would say. But then Kyungsoo's expression changed abruptly. It was like the mask had cracks and it broke suddenly, baring the vulnerability underneath. He took a step towards him, looking like he'd break down if not held right then. 

As Kyungsoo took tiny steps towards him he travelled the rest of the distance as fast as he could. 

They met halfway. 

He pulled Kyungsoo to him and hugged him tightly. Suddenly the despair he was feeling was almost gone, suddenly he could breathe again without feeling a heaviness in his chest. 

Kyungsoo surprised him by clutching onto him for a long time, and when he let go his eyes were damp again. He cupped the beautiful face in his large hands, looking at him softly, and used a finger to gently wipe his eyes off. 

Kyungsoo surprised him again by placing his hands on his nape and pulling him down to kiss him on the lips. His kiss was a little desperate, lacking the professional finesse that was there last time. But Jongin liked it just as much, maybe even more because the last time they were here, Kyungsoo wasn't the one to initiate anything. This time it was different from the beginning. 

Last time they talked a lot, mostly because Jongin was feeling awkward. But after a few weeks of separation and quietly pining for the boy he didn't want to waste any time by talking. They had all the time in the world for talking. Kyungsoo seemed to share his thoughts. 

But before they walked down that familiar path, he remembered something that had to be said. "I...I'm sorry I don't have money," he confessed in a small voice, ears turning red in shame. His heart started to beat a little faster by thinking what he'd do if the boy changed his mind and refused him after knowing this. 

Kyungsoo glanced up at him, his face open and devoid of any trace of disappointment "I know," he said simply with a nod. He resumed kissing him with double intensity now, barely giving Jongin enough time to let a relieved breath out. Their entangled lips sealed an unsaid promise. 

  
  
  


Later, when they were both tired from riding the waves of passion, they lied side by side on the grass, and stared at the starless sky. The wind was picking up again after a small interval. 

He popped himself up on his elbow and gazed at Kyungsoo, lying with his eyes close, still not fully clothed. He looked around for his discarded shirt and draped it over his chest lest he caught a cold. Kyungsoo didn't even move. But he knew the boy wasn't sleeping. So he kept on looking, tracing the boy's beautiful features with his eyes, unsure to touch. 

He had so many questions that he pushed aside. He knew the boy wouldn't appreciate being questioned, so he kept them to himself. He didn't know why he was crying and maybe he couldn't do much, but he'd try his best to never see that defeated look on his pretty face. 

Soon only looking wasn't enough for him, and he reached over to trace the slope of his adorable button nose with a single finger. That made Kyungsoo finally open his eyes, a frown forming between his thick brows. As he tried to swat his hand away Jongin started to laugh, making Kyungsoo even more exasperated. "Stop it!" He grumbled. Jongin laughed harder. He discovered he loved the annoyed look on the boy. 

Before Kyungsoo got seriously offended he stopped. But then when he noticed how the boy was trying hard not to let a smile form on his lips, his smile became broader. On a whim, he leaned down to plant a kiss on his plump lips, which the boy tried to avoid by shaking his head. He growled at him before holding his small face in his hands, successfully cutting off any chance to avoid the kiss, and kissed him rather sweetly. Kyungsoo didn't resist anymore. He returned the kiss, rather enthusiastically now. But soon Jongin stopped himself before he got too excited. He didn't want to overwhelm the boy. 

Instead he asked something that was slightly bothering him. He sat up quickly, a little agitated. "What did you mean by 'I know'?" When he saw the confused look on Kyungsoo's face, he asked again. "When I said I don't have money, you said 'I know', what did you mean?" 

Kyungsoo pulled himself up then. While wearing his shirt, he answered with an amused look on his face. "I didn't mean anything. Just that I _know_ you don't have money." It seemed the brat was teasing him. Jongin felt a little offended. But before he could say anything else it suddenly started to rain hard without any warning. 

There was no shelter here, and they couldn't very well enter the woods at night to seek shelter under the trees. So they had no option than running and looking for a shelter near the tents. 

Jongin shrugged his shirt off to hold it over their heads, a futile attempt at staying dry in that pouring rain. He knew it, but he had to try to keep at least Kyungsoo dry. For some reason the idea of the boy falling sick and losing the chance to work didn't sit well with him. He wasn't worried about himself, though. He had faced worse in the front. 

Jongin decided it would be better to go to his tent directly, where he could help Kyungsoo get dry instead of waiting for the rain to stop. It didn't look like it would stop anytime soon. 

As they entered his tent completely soaked from head to toe, there was only Minjae inside. The man was getting ready to go to bed when he spotted them. The baffled look on his face would have been comical if Jongin hadn't suddenly remembered the lie he told about Kyungsoo the other day on the construction site. But it was already too late to be worrying about it now. 

Minjae quickly recovered though. He buttoned up his shirt as fast as he could and gestured to them to come inside. "Others have gone to play cards. I was a bit late, but I'll go now." With that he grabbed an umbrella and walked out of the tent. 

Jongin thought he'd have to remember to thank the man tomorrow, maybe buy him something delicious from the shop where Kyungsoo worked. 

He glanced at Kyungsoo to find the boy standing awkwardly, so he pulled him by his hands to his own corner. Getting a clean towel he started to dry his hair. But the boy resisted. "I can do it myself. You dry yourself now, otherwise you'll fall sick." This, for some reason, lifted his mood up. He loved the idea of the boy worrying about him falling sick. 

There was no sign of the rain stopping. So they sat on his mat, now in dry clothes. Kyungsoo wearing his clothes looked so tiny and adorable that he felt like pulling his round cheeks. But he resisted the urge because he couldn't gauge the boy's mood now. So he restarted their previous conversation. "How did you know I don't have money?" He tried to stop the pout from forming on his lips, but failed. 

Kyungsoo giggled then, making him look like a pretty doll. Jongin felt a pain inside his chest. _How can a person be so adorable?_ Everytime he tried to hide how he was utterly taken with him, Kyungsoo did something that made it harder for him. 

"I mean I know your rank isn't high, and considering that you have a wife and maybe a few children at home, it's only natural that you don't have much money left." He said this in a casual way. 

Jongin gaped at him. He wasn't sure whether the boy was teasing him or not. But when Kyungsoo didn't smile, he took it as the boy really meant what he said. Now he was angry. How could he think he had a wife and a few _children_ at home? Did he look that _old_? "How old do you think I am?" He asked, barely concealing his agitation. 

"Why? I don't know-" Kyungsoo made a show of thinking hard, "maybe thirty five, thirty three?" Now he knew the boy was teasing him from the way he was snickering. 

Jongin decided to wipe that smile off then. So he jerked the brat by his hand, pulling him close to his chest, and pinched his cheeks before kissing him hard. He even bit down on his lips, making Kyungsoo flinch away. "Serves you right for calling me _old!"_ He huffed as the boy glared at him. "But I must say you're smart, fishing for information without asking." 

Kyungsoo snorted at that. "I'm not fishing for information. I don't care about your age, or your wife, or your children," he announced. Jogin nodded in a placating manner. 

"Ok but do I really look thirty five?" He was a bit concerned. Although he knew he wasn't hard to look at but he'd always been a little matured looking than his actual age. He even looked older next to Taemin when it was him who was five months younger. "I'm twenty five, by the way. And I'm unmarried," he added. 

Instead of answering him Kyungsoo just shrugged. "Tell me how old _you_ are then," he demanded. 

"I told you before I'm old enough," Kyungsoo smirked at him then, making him feel weak. He was so weak against Kyungsoo. 

The rain had already stopped by then. So Kyungsoo stood up, ready to go. Jongin stood up as well, not ready to let him walk alone at night, especially in this weather. "Okay, let me take an umbrella." 

Kyungsoo looked like he was about to protest, but he cut him off with a warning glare. He didn't say anything else after tha. 

❄️❄️ 

  
  


This was the first time in his life someone was walking him home, and it felt unreal. This was the place he was born, he knew every nook and cranny of this island whereas the man...Jongin, was the outsider. And yet he thought he needed to accompany him. If he was being honest with himself, he was happy for the company. 

After the incident at the shop, he was feeling a little too emotional and maybe that was messing with his mind. Why else would he follow Jongin earlier? He was hoping to find some customers when he saw the man going towards the mound and he instantly, without thinking, decided to follow him. He was glad he did though. He figured when he was with Jongin he didn't feel so pathetic about himself. Jongin made him feel wanted, and not only for his body. It seemed the man genuinely liked spending time with him. 

And he was always lonely. 

"You should call me _hyung_ from now on," Jongin announced in a way that said he wasn't taking no for an answer. He snorted but didn't say anything. It was clear that Jongin was a serious fellow, from the way he carried himself, from the way he treated everyone. He might be even well educated. But at the same time there was an immature side to him, almost childish. Like the way he got offended so easily by his teasing. Like the way he had a tendency to be over affectionate towards him. No matter how much he pretended to be annoyed, he secretly liked those little, unnecessary touches from the man. 

No one ever touched him without the intention of fucking. Even then, they were more inclined to be _touched_ by him not the other way around. This line of thought brought back the memory in the woods from this morning and his mood soured. 

Jongin walked beside him holding the flashlight in one hand, sometimes sneaking a few glances at him. Sometimes the man saw a little too much. He seemed very well versed with guessing his mood. "Who else lives in your house?" He asked, clearly trying to fill up the uncomfortable silence. 

"I live alone. I'm an orphan," he answered matter of factly. He didn't feel sorry for that anymore. It was a reality, and he didn't want anyone to pity him for it. Thankfully Jongin didn't overreact. He simply nodded his head, which was a relief. 

By the time they reached his house, it was quite late. He opened the door to find the floor flooded with rain water, and Meokmool sleeping on the cot. He sighed in relief to see the puppy was alright. He noticed Jongin was standing beside him with a wide-eyed look. "I meant to mend the roof but it rained so heavily today." He explained with a shrug. 

"You have a puppy!" Jongin seemed excited to see Meokmool. Maybe the man liked puppies. 

"Yes. It's a stray-" He went to lift the puppy, now awake, up in his hands to show it to Jongin. "Found me a few days ago and didn't leave me alone. So I brought her back with me. Her name is Meokmool." 

Meokmool seemed a little terrified to see Jongin first but when he offered a hand to her, she reluctantly sniffed at it and gave it a small lick. Jongin looked very happy to get her approval. Taking the puppy from his hands he said, "What will you do with the water?" 

He shrugged. "Nothing. It will go down by tomorrow." 

"Okay. I'll come tomorrow to help you mend the roof then." Jongin was rubbing Meokmool's ears and she was leaning her tiny head against his hand, asking for more. 

"What? No! Don't trouble yourself. I can manage myself." 

Jongin handed Meokmool back to him. "I have to go now but I'll come tomorrow at the end of my shift. I'll try to come early before it's dark. Stay home." 

With that he left. 

_Stay home._ As if he had anywhere to go now. 

He didn't feel like cooking and he didn't get the food from the shop today either. He didn't mind going to bed in empty stomach, but he felt bad for the puppy. After looking for a minute, he found a little pouch full of puffed rice. He fed it to Meokmool. 

That night he fell asleep hugging Meokmool's small, warm body to him. 

❄️❄️

The next morning Jongin woke up being shaken by Minjae. He slowly opened his eyes to see his friend hovering over him, a worried expression on his face. "Are you sick?" He asked worriedly. 

He took inventory of how he was feeling. He didn't feel feverish, and didn't feel any headache either. So he must not have caught a cold. "I'm fine. Why?" He asked in a groggy voice. 

"You're late. I haven't seen you sleep this soundly before." 

He smiled at his friend, feeling grateful for his concern. When he tried to sit up he felt a shooting pain in his lower back, making him flinch a little. He hid showing the pain on his face though.

It was a residual effect of being in the front for months. One night he was unfortunate enough to be in the middle of an exploding grenade. Although he had jumped out of harm's way, he landed flat on his butt, and injured his lower back. The little medical help he got from the doctors available there wasn't enough to solve the problem. 

The doctors told him to seek medical attention after he returned to his hometown, Seoul. Until then he had to bear the pain silently as he didn't want anyone's pity or even worse, someone thinking he was unable to work properly. It wasn't a bother for the most part. It only bothered him just when it rained and when he had to stand on his feet for a long time. 

Thinking the conversation was over, he tried to get up from the mat when Minjae stopped him with a hand on his chest. He looked at his friend questioningly. "I know we all need entertainment here on this boring island, but be careful Jongin," he said looking uncomfortable. "Don't forget you have a reputation back in your hometown and you know how rumour flies. And you know better than me that the war is almost over. So we'll get out of this damn island soon, brother!" He slapped him on the back. 

This line of talking was making him increasingly uncomfortable. He didn't want to discuss his sexual preference with anyone, no matter how close they were. So he kept his mouth shut and stared at his friend waiting for him to stop. But what he said about the war being almost over was true. He heard it from whispers while writing reports and letters. 

Minjae seemed to understand that his advice was unsolicited so he smiled awkwardly. "Although I must admit the boy is pretty, prettier than those hags always sniffing around the tents." He laughed at his own joke. 

Jongin cringed inside at his crude remark. People like Kyungsoo and those women are an indispensable part of their society and yet society looked down on them, as if they were doing some crime. It was a standard way of thinking but he felt sad to find out Minjae, a young man, was no exception. He returned his smile tightly before getting up to get ready for the day. 

  
  


When he reached Kyungsoo's house, holding the thatch, ropes and other necessary equipment needed for the task at hand, a few hours of daylight time was left. Meokmool greeted him at the door, yapping excitedly and running around his legs. It made him laugh. The puppy was really sweet and he was happy that she was here to keep Kyungsoo company. 

Hearing her yelps Kyungsoo came at the door and took the things from his hand, silently gesturing for him to enter. He was glad for the water Kyungsoo offered. His throat was parched. 

Without wasting much time they started the thatching. He was up on a ladder and Kyungsoo was standing beneath supplying him everything he needed. They worked in comfortable silence. 

It took them a little longer than two hours to complete the task and Jongin could feel the pain returning in his lower back by the end. But he didn't show it. 

He extended his hand for Kyungsoo to hand him the ropes when the boy started to snicker suddenly. "What? Why are you laughing?" He was baffled as he wasn't used to seeing Kyungsoo laughing very often. 

"Don't get angry _hyung,_ but your nose looks funny from down here," he said, still snickering. 

If it were anyone else he'd have felt insulted but coming from Kyungsoo, it made him feel warm inside. He was happy to see the boy in a good mood, even at his own expense. As he was almost done with the work and his lower back was screaming for rest, he quickly climbed down the ladder and caught the boy by his slender arms. "And do you know how _you_ look from above?" Kyungsoo shook his head, now laughing hard. 

He pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. "Looking up from under your pretty, long lashes, you look ready to be fucked." 

As soon as the word left his mouth he felt his whole face turning hot. He was never one to talk dirty, so now what possessed him to say that aloud was beyond his understanding. And when he saw Kyungsoo was looking down with his ears turning red, he was about to apologise for his crudeness. 

But Kyungsoo looked up then. Clutching at his shirt collar by both hands he whispered back. "Then fuck me." 

They jumped onto the cot, immediately getting rid of their clothes. Like an unspoken agreement they didn't waste time for foreplay, directly going to the main action. 

Kyungsoo wrapped his smooth white legs around his hips as he positioned his cock at his entrance. Kyungsoo had suggested they use cooking oil and so he had slicked up his cock properly. The cock went in easier than before, making both of them grunt at the delicious gliding sensation. 

Jongin was too aroused to go slow. So he started to thrust hard from the beginning, and if Kyungsoo's loud moans were any indication he was enjoying being fucked hard. He was glad they were inside Kyungsoo's house though. Otherwise his moaning could have put them in predicament. 

It was while thrusting with force Jongin felt another shooting pain in his lower back that he couldn't stop the painful gasp out of his mouth. Kyungsoo looked up at him at once. "What's wrong?" The concern was clearly showing on his pretty face. 

Jongin wanted to die then. _Why did fate always land him in uncomfortable situations when he was with Kyungsoo?_ He stayed silent, still inside Kyungsoo but his cock was quickly turning soft. He gritted his teeth, half in pain and half in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he went soft while he was still inside the boy _._

Not wanting to prolong the humiliation he slipped his cock out, and flopped down on the bed, hiding his face in his hands. Kyungsoo softly removed his hands away from his face, looking at him with big, concerned eyes. He couldn't find any trace of mockery in them and that helped him become a little relaxed. 

"Where are you hurting?" Kyungsoo asked directly. 

There was no point in hiding. So he sighed. "My lower back. It got injured while I was in the front." He closed his eyes, unable to look at Kyungsoo now. 

"I'll make you an oil for the pain. Apply it regularly and you'll feel relief." The smaller boy looked so matured and matter of fact that he reminded him of the nurses in the front. It was a commendable trait to be stoic in the face of trouble. Although Kyungsoo wasn't a nurse and he wasn't facing a war, the way he was handling the situation without making him feel embarrassed over his failure to perform was increasing his respect for the young boy. 

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, trying to get up then, but Kyungsoo pushed him back to the bed. 

"Are you hurting too much?" Kyungsoo asked, caressing his forehead. 

He shook his head. It wasn't a constant pain. It just hurt sometimes, mostly in unfortunate times. He felt frustrated. 

Kyungsoo sat up suddenly then and grabbed his cock. With a few tugs it came to life, already turning semi-hard. "Let me continue from here then," Kyungsoo pleaded to him, as if he had it in him to say no to this offer. But what he meant by _continue,_ he didn't have any idea.

Jongin found out soon enough. Just from the touch of Kyungsoo's pink tongue alone, his cock was full hard. It amazed him at how skillful the young boy was in using his tongue. When he was turned into a writhing mess under the boy's hands and lips and tongue, Kyungsoo suddenly let him go, making him bite down a frustrated groan. 

He stared at the boy's beautiful lithe body while he climbed down the bed to fetch some more of the oil they'd used earlier. He came back quickly and climbed back up. Slicking up his hard dick once again Kyungsoo swiftly lifted himself up. His knees were planted on both sides of his hips, and positioning his cockhead at his own entrance, the boy slowly slid the cock inside by bringing his hips down. Soon he had the whole cock inside his tight hole, and Jongin felt overwhelmed with the sight, the sound and the feel. 

No one had ever ridden his cock like this before. And he was glad that he could share this first with Kyungsoo. If earlier he was worried about Kyungsoo's loud moans, this time he was ashamed of how loudly he was groaning at every downward slide. Bouncing up and down on his cock, Kyungsoo looked so beautiful that he found it hard to believe he was real. 

They were so engrossed in themselves that they'd almost forgotten about the other living being inside the house. Meokmool must have been surprised to see her owner in this position, bouncing weirdly. So she leapt up to the cot and started to bounce around them too, thinking it some sort of a play. 

They burst out laughing at the same time. Kyungsoo collapsed on his chest, laughing so hard that he started to wheeze. Jongin wasn't in much better state himself. He wrapped his hands around Kyungsoo and buried his face in the crook of his neck to muffle his guffaws. 

It was a blessing that after all that laughing they could still finish. Jongin felt thankful for what Kyungsoo did, but he didn't know how to say that without sounding corny. So he held the boy close to his chest and kissed his forehead, and saw Kyungsoo smiling at him fondly before he fell asleep.

❄️❄️

  
  


After that day in his house, he hadn't gone to Jongin again. It had been two weeks and he terribly missed the man, but he wouldn't go to him. Not again. It was his promise to himself. 

That day was like an eye opener to him. He realised how far they'd gone from a relationship between a prostitute and a customer. Since the night at the meadow Jongin had stopped paying him and he didn't even think of asking for it. What did that make them then? It wasn't like he had any other way of earning a living. He was a prostitute who opened his legs for money. It was the simple truth. So what was he doing letting a man fuck him for free? How could he become so fucking stupid to fall for someone's sweet talking and handsome face? 

He was angry at the man, yes, but he was angrier at himself for letting this happen. For letting his guard down. And for what? If he were to believe in the rumours, the war was almost over and with that the time for the soldiers staying on this godforsaken island was almost over too. So what would happen after the man left and never stepped a foot on this island again? Would he be able to go on with his life like none of that happened between them? Would he be able to keep on living the life of a whore when he knew there was a man living in the same country whom he loved more than anything in this world? 

Before all of this mess he didn't feel anything other than the occasional pain or pleasure when he let his customers fuck him. Their ability to pay him in cash was the only criteria for them to be eligible to get a piece of his ass. But everything had changed after he met the handsome soldier. Now he found himself cringing at the ugly faces of his customers. Now he shuddered in repulsion at the greasy hands touching his body so roughly, without a trace of gentleness. And he felt a craving for the man's touch immediately after, to be able to forget the ugly experience. 

He didn't know when exactly he fell for the man but he realised it after the day in his house, when he felt a weird urge to reassure the man when he was suffering from humiliation over his lack of performance. He huffed at himself at how he even promised to prepare an oil for the pain. Just like a little wife. He laughed at his stupidity now. All his life he'd managed to live on his own, only to fall for a handsome face and a few kind words. Like the man would even remember him a few days after getting back to his home. And when he'd be sharing his bed with a pretty little wife, whispering kind words to her ears, making her as crazy as he was for him, he would be spending his night either whoring himself off or sleeping inside his sorry little house being miserable over the memories. 

Now sitting on his cot, he found himself crying for the man who could never stay. Fuck it! It was only a few months that he knew him. So why was he feeling like he couldn't breathe? Why was he feeling like there was no reason for him to keep this sorry existence of him? What would it matter if he lived or not? He wouldn't be leaving anyone crying behind him. Only Meokmool would mourn for him. But she would recover. She would find another owner just like she found him. But he knew he was a coward. And cowards didn't have the right to freedom from their sufferings. 

He knew he had to suffer. Maybe he sinned so much in his past life to have such a sorry life now. But enough was enough. He stood up from the bed and wiped his eyes. He had to go out and search for anyone that would be willing to pay to fuck him. Hopefully he wouldn't picture a certain face this time while being taken by another man. 

As he stepped out of his house he spotted the very man he was trying to avoid and with a curse he hid behind a wall. _Fuck! Why did he come back again?_ In two weeks Jongin had come looking for him four times, five now. Everytime he was home but he hid himself so that the man left. He had to thank Meokmool for that though. She always got excited hearing Jongin's footsteps and thus alerted him to get away from the house. 

At this point he knew that the man knew he was intentionally avoiding him. But damn that man was so stubborn. He kept coming. This time too he came to the door and called his name. Meokmool started to bark from the house. That traitor! It seemed she liked Jongin more than she liked him. 

He waited for the man to leave but he didn't. Unlike previous times Jongin started to talk this time. "I think you're near somewhere. So hear me out. I don't know what I did to offend you but I'm sorry. Please forgive me once and let me see you. I will stop coming after today. But I'll hope everyday for you to show up before me the way you always do." There was silence for a few seconds so he thought the man was gone. But then he heard his voice again, much softer this time. "Goodbye Kyungsoo. I hope you are happy." 

He came out of his hiding spot after hearing the receding footsteps of the man. Damn this man! He was almost fine, he was trying to be nonchalant, he was preparing to spend the day getting fucked by random men, but Jongin had to come and ruin everything for him. What right did he have to wish him happiness after pushing him to endless misery? It was so easy for the man to say goodbye, not knowing the excruciating pain it caused him. How could he say goodbye so easily? 

Kyungsoo hated Kim Jongin. He cursed the day he met the man again. But how could he know he'd fall for him so hard? He never had anyone that he could call his, he never had anyone worth loving. How would he know he'd be so helpless in love? He laughed without any mirth. 

Life was always a lesson for him. This, too, was a lesson. Never fall for a customer no matter how handsome or kind. These are the cruelest of men as the pain they inflict don't show on the skin, rather they get engraved in your soul, slowly rotting it from inside. 

With another curse he went on his way to earn some money. 

❄️❄️

Corporal Kim Jong In's journal entry #54

Date:

Time: 

My night flower, where did you go? 

You bloomed so beautiful that night.

You bloomed so silently like the falling snow.

I just had you in my hands,

My night flower, where did you go? 

You bloom so beautiful at night.

And now I have lost you in bright daylight.

❄️❄️

Jongin was sure there was something wrong with him. There was something broken inside him that people don't see in the beginning but find out eventually. And then they leave him. 

Either that or he might have committed heinous crimes in his past lives so his soul has turned so wicked that chase people away from him. He decided to see a _shaman_ after he returned home. He'd always been the first one to make fun of his mother when she went to these _shamans_ to know their futures. But things change. People change too. 

He was staring at nothing when there was a thud on the table he was sitting. He looked up to see a guard leaving him some more papers to look through. Lately he was taking inventory of all the POWs' reports as the war was almost over and it was quickly approaching an armistice. Any day now they'd get the news. 

Any day now he'd finally be free and go home. He smiled ruefully remembering how he was sad when he came to this place and he was still sad when leaving. 

Maybe some people were born to be sad. Live their sad little life wallowing in sadness and then die lonely and sad too. 

He was lost in self-pity when someone called his name. He looked sideways to find Minjae standing just outside the tent, looking afraid to be standing there as entry was prohibited to everyone without permission. An instant frown formed between Jongin's eyebrows as Minjae wouldn't have come without any serious reason. He quickly stood up and hurried towards the man. 

Once outside the tent the man suddenly grabbed his hand tugging him in the direction of the market. He resisted. "Where are you taking me? What is happening?" To be honest after the day Minjae warned him about Kyungsoo he felt a little disconnected from the man. He didn't hate him, wasn't even angry with him. He was just disappointed. 

"Come fast. They're punishing the boy," the man explained while beckoning him with his hand to follow him. 

Suddenly Jongin's heart started to beat faster. "What boy? Who are you talking about?" 

"Your boy. He stole something from an officer-" 

Jongin didn't need to be told twice. He took off in the direction of the market, where most of the punishment were doled out. To make a show of what would happen if rules were broken. To incite fear in every probable criminal. 

When he reached the market he was breathing hard as he ran the whole way. He didn't have to look for the boy though. He was tied up to a wooden pole, upper body bared to everyone's eyes. A guard was standing near him, a baton in hand. Probably waiting for more people to arrive for greater impact. 

Jongin was seeing the boy more than a month after. He'd imagined so many scenarios for this meeting and none of them involved _this._ He'd dreamt of this day almost every night; instead what he was getting in reality was a nightmare. 

He pushed people aside to get near Kyungsoo. Although it felt horrible to see the boy tied like this, he couldn't resist the urge to get a glimpse of him. He looked thinner. There was something in his face that wasn't there before but he didn't know _what_ exactly had changed. 

Inside the circle of people, tied up to a pole stripped half naked, Kyungsoo looked so small but not weak. Never weak. Jongin found himself unable to look away from that beautiful face looking determined and so fierce. 

He didn't know what he stole, didn't know why he did it. But one thing he knew and that was he wasn't strong enough to see this boy getting beaten up ruthlessly. Saying a silent sorry to him he turned around to leave the place. It was a blessing that Kyungsoo didn't see him. 

Didn't see the real Kim Jongin. 

A coward. A weak man. 

The boy had already lost interest in him which was understandable. He needed money after all. But Jongin didn't want him to _hate_ him too. 

  
  


He rushed out of the Colonel's tent with the order in hand and started to run towards the market once again. This time he felt so much stronger than before. This time he was ready to face Kyungsoo. 

When he rushed into the tight circle pushing overly excited people to see someone being beaten, it wasn't too late. 

He marched to the guard in charge and handed him the order. 

While the guard was reading the order, Jongin sneaked a glance at the boy standing not more than two feet away. His head was down so he couldn't see his face. He couldn't know how much pain he was in. So he inspected his back and spotted two-three red marks and cringed inside. Even though he tried his best to be as quick as possible to get the pardon from the Colonel, it wasn't enough for the boy to avoid the beating altogether. 

Those red marks looked so ghastly on his pale skin but at the same time they were so horribly enticing that he found himself staring at them. Suddenly Jongin realised he was crying. Silent tears streamed down his face, which he wiped off immediately. 

The guard announced the pardon granted to Kyungsoo then, immediately starting a murmuring in the crowd. Although their surprise wasn't unjustified as it wasn't everyday a thief got pardon from the Colonel in charge of the whole camp. 

Kyungsoo raised his head then and directly looked at him. There was no surprise, no relief, no fondness in his eyes. Only a vacant stare and a tightness around those pretty eyes. 

Jongin couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the sheer disinterest in the boy's stare. Why _was he so cruel?_ Didn't those times they spend together mean anything to him? Didn't he feel anything for him at all? 

He knew the answer was no. 

He left the place as fast as he got there. 

❄️❄️

Jongin was standing inside his tent, currently empty except him. Others had gone to play cards and have final celebratory drinks with fellow soldiers as the war was finally over. The armistice between all the parties was declared this morning. So tonight the Koje-Do POW camp was full of excitement and merriment. 

Jongin was feeling out of place. He couldn't join the others. Although he was feeling relieved to be finally getting out of this torturous place there was a part in him that was still clutching at the bittersweet memories of the times spent with Kyungsoo. He had many faults, but the worst one was the inability to forget the past. Unlike some people. 

And wasn't it funny that he always got involved with those types of people. 

Cruel people. 

Suddenly he felt angry at himself for being so weak that anyone could hurt him easily. 

For being too trusting. 

For falling in love so easily. 

He swore this was the last time he'd let a person have so much power over him. 

Never again. 

He needed to change himself to fit in this cruel world. And he would. Two days from now a new Kim Jongin would leave the island burying the old idiot one here. 

Determined, he decided to stop feeling so sorry for himself and join the others in celebration. He too had reason to celebrate after all. He'd celebrate the death of the old Jongin. 

As he was about to leave the person he least expected to see entered the tent. He was so shocked to see the boy that he stayed in place as if someone had plastered his feet to the ground. 

"I heard you're leaving in two days. So I came to say goodbye," Kyungsoo said, awkwardly looking around the tent, avoiding looking him in the eyes. Jongin felt an odd satisfaction to see the boy struggling. 

_Good. At least he was feeling guilty for how he treated him._

He waited for the boy to continue. He liked how he was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable standing in front of him. Petty yes, but satisfactory. 

"Also I...uh...I came to thank you. For saving me that day. You didn't have to." Finally he looked at him and when he thanked him there was sincerity in his eyes. 

Jongin just nodded. He didn't want the boy's gratitude. What he wanted was _answers_. As he stayed silent Kyungsoo got nervous. "So...I think I will go now." He turned to go. 

Jongin panicked inside. He thought this was his last chance to get some answers. Last chance to a closure. And if he was being honest with himself he wasn't ready to let go just then. Just a little bit more with this sad beautiful boy. Just a little bit more of the bittersweet feeling. That was all he had now. He didn't want to end things like this between them. "Wait," he called out. Kyungsoo turned around, staring at him questioningly. 

"Before you go, give me some answers." 

Kyungsoo looked wary but nodded anyway. 

"I think I know why you stopped seeing me. But what I don't understand is why you couldn't tell me so yourself. Why couldn't you say goodbye to me _then_? Why were you so cruel to me?" He stopped himself after firing all those questions in a single breath.

Kyungsoo's face lost all colour before turning red. He took a few steps towards him, looking agitated, hands fisted on his sides. "You are calling _me_ cruel? Me? When _you_ turned my life upside down?" With every single word his voice was turning louder. 

He stood stunned at Kyungsoo's sudden outburst. He had never seen the boy so angry before, making him momentarily at a loss of words but he recovered quickly, his own temper flaring. 

"Are you blaming me now?" He pointed a finger to his chest. "Tell me, when have I ever said or did anything bad to you?" He asked, sounding incredulous at the sudden allegation. Good lord! What was the boy saying? After all the good times they spend together, how could he bring such harsh allegations against him? 

"That's why! That's why!" Kyungsoo came even closer to him and poked a finger at his chest. "You with your overly good nature, ruined my life." Kyungsoo turned away from him, probably trying to hide his face from him. "Why did you care? I have always felt content being alone but you...you made me feel so lonely. You made me-" he stopped abruptly and then his mood changed completely. "Sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you" he mumbled, suddenly turning calm before trying to walk out. 

Jongin thought he'd be damned if he let the boy go like that. What the boy was saying wasn't making any sense to him. How did _he_ make him feel lonely? He never stopped seeing him, rather it was Kyungsoo who cut him off without a single thought. But he had the audacity to blame him! He needed answers and he'd get them tonight. 

So he rushed to him and pulled him inside by his hand. "I won't let you go before you complete that sentence," he gritted out, jerking Kyungsoo, maybe with more force than he'd usually use. "You mean I made you do everything? I made you have sex with me? I told you in the first place that I don't have money!" 

Kyungsoo winced before his eyes turned wide. "Do you think it's about money? How dumb are you?" He scoffed, taking his hand out of his hand. 

Jongin went still. "Careful of the way you talk to me. Don't forget I'm older than you." He'd always liked the way Kyungsoo was free spirited and spoke his mind. He was not an authoritative person at all but he wouldn't tolerate the boy blatantly disrespecting him either. Then he remembered the boy still hadn't answered the question. So he let the insult slide and asked again. "Complete the sentence Kyungsoo." 

The boy looked like he was having an inner turmoil. He started to nibble on his lower lip and fidget with his shirt again. Finally after a few seconds he opened his mouth. "You made me miss you. You made me miserable. You made me fall for you," he whispered the last sentence in a trembling voice. "And now you're leaving." 

Kyungsoo broke down then, his big eyes brimming with tears. He tried to run off again but Jongin grabbed his hand and pulled him close to his chest. He let him go long enough to cup his face, urging him to look at him. When Kyungsoo glanced up at him, tears were streaming down his face. It wrenched his heart. "You fell for me? Do you mean you love me?" Jongin asked while wiping Kyungsoo's tears off. 

Kyungsoo nodded, looking down again as if he was ashamed to accept it.

Jongin couldn't believe his ears. After months of being in pain he was just now learning that the person he was so in love with fell for him too. What sort of twisted joke was it? All this time he was feeling miserable, he could actually be happy with Kyungsoo. He suddenly flicked the boy on his forehead, making him flich and glare at him. Jongin laughed out loud, probably the first time in a month. 

"What's that for?" Kyungsoo glared at him some more while sniffling. He looked so adorable that Jongin couldn't help but kiss his pouty lips then. "That was for being dumb. You caused both of us so much heartache. You could've just told me before, you know?" 

"Yes, and then you'd have gone down on your knee to ask for my hand in marriage." Sarcasm dripped down Kyungsoo's words. 

Jongin became very serious then. He'd known for a long time that marriage wasn't for him. He wasn't ashamed of who he was, and he wasn't willing to waste his life living a lie. He wasn't afraid of what people think of him and wasn't weak enough to let others dictate his life. "You know I can't do that-" he started seriously, "but if you agree to stay with me, I can promise you, you'll always have me by your side. You'll be my only partner." Saying that aloud felt so good. He always loved the idea of living a life of love and commitment. Maybe he was different, but that was what he was. He couldn't settle for anything less. 

Kyungsoo looked dazed. He stayed silent for a few seconds increasing Jongin's anxiety. But when he glanced at him, he looked serious. "I love you, hyung. If you let me I'll stay with you for the rest of my life." 

They kissed then as there was nothing else to say. Jongin loved Kyungsoo and he was fortunate enough to be loved by him. Their kiss started out sweet and then turned salty, their tears of joy mingled as they silently promised themselves to each other. 

Later when they were lying side by side on his mat, and he was absent-mindedly running his fingers through Kyungsoo's hair, now quite longer than before, Kyungsoo twisted his body towards him. "But hyung what will I do in Seoul? I don't know much reading and writing. I have no talents. What will I do in such a big city?" 

Jongin smiled at him mischievously. "You can serve only me," he said with a raised brow and had to dodge the punch Kyungsoo threw at him then, laughing hard. 

"Oh so you are sweet talking me to lure me away and then you plan to turn me into a slave?" 

"Yes." Jongin pulled him down by his shirt collar and peppered him with kisses. 

Getting free, Kyungsoo started his questioning again. He seemed to have a lot of them. Jongin sighed. He just wanted to cuddle with his lover but he knew Kyungsoo must have many questions that deserved to be answered.

"If I get lost in that big city, how will I go back to you?" Kyungsoo looked like a frightened kid then and Jongin understood his concern. He'd never left the island, never had anyone to rely on. For the first time in his life he was blindly believing someone to completely change his life, to leave everything that was known to him. 

Jongin sat up. "First of all you do have a talent. You cook really well and you can do that there like you do it now in the shop. Or you can help me out in the bookstore. And don't worry about getting lost. No matter what happens, I will find you," he reassured Kyungsoo, caressing his round cheeks. 

"Hyung I haven't told you. I've stopped working in the shop for quite some time now." Kyungsoo looked down as if embarrassed. 

Jongin was surprised. He didn't know that and when he learned the full story behind that he felt bad for Kyungsoo. He had to go through so much all alone and he didn't ever show it on his face. All his worries, all his pain he always borne them silently. 

Not anymore. Now he had him. Now he would make sure that Kyungsoo got every happiness he deserved in the world. It was his own promise to himself. One that he wished to keep until the day he dies.

❄️❄️

  
  


Jongin was reporting for the last time to the Colonel. He was standing in front of his table, delivering the paperwork needed to release the POWs. After inspecting them personally, the Colonel spoke up. "Good job Corporal Kim." He thanked his superior, genuinely happy to be praised by none other than the in-charge of the camp.

"Sir, I need to say thank you once again for the pardon. You believed me and that's a huge honour, sir." 

That day when Kyungsoo was being punished for _stealing_ only a hundred _won_ from a sergeant, he came directly to the Colonel pleading for the pardon. 

The Colonel left his chair then and came over to him. "You know Jongin, I deal with thousands of people everyday. I don't know that person who was charged but I know you. You're a hard-working and honest young man. I did it because of you." The Colonel patted him on the back. 

Jongin didn't know if Kyungsoo really stole the money or it was some kind of misunderstanding or a set up, and honestly he didn't care to know. He never took the boy as a thief but if he really did steal, he must have had his reasons. He promised the Colonel to pay the officer back and that he did. He had that money stashed away for buying more books, but it was used for better purpose.

Nothing was more important than Kyungsoo. Nothing. 

"I hope you're joining tonight's show?" The Colonel asked him with a rare smile. It was the last celebration marking the end of the war. Sergeant Jackson was in charge of the performances and he was really excited to watch them. For the first time the whole show was open to all the locals, so Kyungsoo would be there too. It increased his excitement by hundreds. 

It would be their first experience being together like couples. 

"Yes sir. I will sir." 

"Good. All the best soldier. It was nice knowing you." The Colonel bid him goodbye with a smile and it made him happy. Although most of the time he didn't appreciate being tied down to paperwork, his experience could be far worse than this. 

  
  


Jongin was inside his tent, packing things up as he'd be leaving tomorrow morning. He was in the first batch of soldiers and POWs leaving the island. Being in good grace of the in-charge had its perks. 

As there wasn't much to pack, he found himself daydreaming about his life back in Seoul. His life with Kyungsoo. It would be difficult to explain this to his family at first, but he hoped his sisters would understand and they'd help him to make his mother understand. He wasn't too worried though as they all want him to be happy, and Kyungsoo is his happiness. One thing he was sure about was his sisters would eventually love Kyungsoo and his sharp tongue, especially when he'd talk back to him. His sisters loved to bully him and they'd love it when Jongin gets bullied by his own partner.

Thinking about the brat made him miss him more. They couldn't go to see the show together because Kyungsoo had gone to say goodbye to _halmoni_ and Seonho. The boy didn't want to go, but he insisted. He knew Kyungsoo was feeling awkward but he also knew if he didn't go he'd feel bad afterwards. They were the only ones he had before Jongin came to his life. Kyungsoo accepted but not before some grumbling about how he was already forcing him to do things against his will and how it would be worse once he reached Seoul. Jongin had tickled him till he stopped grumbling and then kissed him, hard. 

Now that he had Kyungsoo to himself it seemed he couldn't spend a minute without thinking about him. He shook his head to himself. Such a fool, but he was happy to be a fool for Kyungsoo. 

  
  
  


It was time. He was ready to go to the arena where the show was arranged. He had heard there would be tap dancing, a form of western dancing, and he was excited to watch it for the first time. With Kyungsoo. 

They'd meet in front of the arena as that was the most convenient option. They couldn't be too obvious here on this island, in front of prejudiced people. After all everyone needn't know the relationship they shared. So they both decided to keep it low until they reached Seoul. Even there, they could never be open about their love, but that was something Jongin had known for a long time. It didn't bother him now. 

People don't get everything they wish for. He had Kyungsoo, and that was enough to make him happy. 

As he was out of the tent a guard came rushing towards him. "Are you Kim Jongin?" The man panted, having to run all the way. 

He nodded, a little worried. 

"There is some problem with the papers for POWs. Some papers are missing. You have to come now." 

Jongin was feeling irritated. He prepared everything well beforehand just to watch the show and now he would be late. Kyungsoo would be waiting alone. He felt a headache forming. He could only hope he wouldn't be too late. Actually he was scared of how Kyungsoo would react if he missed the show. So he hurried to the tent alongside the guard. 

He figured out the problem easily. Someone had placed those papers in the wrong file, most probably because they couldn't read English. For this he had to be late now. He cursed under his breath. 

He was refiling the last set of papers when he heard the distant pops of bullets. Startled and confused, he ran out of the tent to see where it was coming from. Once outside he saw it was coming from the direction of the arena. There were other startled soldiers standing outside, equally confused. Someone said it could be part of the show, but then they heard the horrible shouts of pain and fear. 

Jongin's heart almost stopped. What was happening? Who was firing bullets? 

  
  


_Was Kyungsoo alright?_

  
  


_Please let him be alright._

  
  


❄️❄️

Fate. 

You can have nothing that's not written on your fate. 

If only people could accept that easily, no one would have been sad in this world. 

Jongin believes in fate. He knows if this is his fate, he has to accept it. 

He knows he shouldn't cry like this in front of everyone. He knows he should worry about his reputation. He knows he should try to keep his sanity. 

But knowing and doing are totally different things. 

He is lying on the ground, just beside the dead bodies. He feels perfectly at home, lying beside his love. A love he just got only a few days ago and lost forever. 

Jongin wants the truck to come and mistake him as a dead body, carrying him away to bury him alive. That would be better than living a life without Kyungsoo. 

He has lost track of time. He doesn't know how many hours, how many days, how many months he lied there on the ground. He is numb, finally. He has used up all the tears, turning his eyes dry as the sand. 

He hears a rumbling on the ground and soon a truck comes in view. 

_So the truck finally came_.

When they uncovered the bodies for the bereaved to see their close ones one last time before losing them forever, Jongin stared at the body with the crooked little toes. 

_Who is this?_

This isn't Kyungsoo. 

So... Kyungsoo might be alive! 

Where is Kyungsoo? 

Jongin sets off towards his arena like a mad man. He is laughing and crying simultaneously. He is so dumb to believe Kyungsoo is dead without even seeing the face first. 

As he takes the road to the arena again to search for Kyungsoo, his heart is beating so hard with hope. He is hoping against hope to find his love alive. 

This time as he nears the arena he hears a faint whimper of a dog coming from the back of a large boulder, that sounds a lot like Meokmool. He rushes to the direction it's coming from, and finds Meokmool crying over Kyungsoo's unmoving body. There's old blood around his head soaking the soil. 

Jongin falls to his knees seeing him like this. Meokmool starts to whimper, now staring at him as if asking for help, as if she believes he can save her owner. 

  
  


❄️❄️

  
  


_He's standing in front of the arena waiting for his very late lover. He's fuming inside. Why is the man not here yet? So this is how it's going to be now? Now that he's told him how he loves him he's going to neglect him._

_No, he will not let him do that. He will teach him a lesson. He will disappear and let the man look for him. And when he becomes crazy with worry he will show up fainting innocence. Yes, that will be the right punishment._

_As he turns around to leave the arena, he spots a group of people coming towards the arena. There is something unusual in the way they are walking. The relaxed gait of an audience is missing, and instead there is an urgency. It looks like they are marching to war._

_Then he notices the guns in their hands and he panickes._

_Who are these people? They don't look like the guards, nor like the villagers. So…_

_As soon as he figures out he runs back to the arena to alert the people inside. It takes a lot of effort for a single person to be heard over loud sounds. But he manages to tell at least a few people who are willing to hear._

_He urges them to tell others but it is too late._

_He hears a loud popping sound before the world erupts in chaos. The last thing he remembers is the excruciating pain he feels in the back of his head before everything goes black in front of his eyes._

  
  


❄️❄️

Kyungsoo opens his eyes slowly. He feels groggy, like he just woke up from a long sleep, which he did. The first face he sees is the one he wants to see the most. His lover, his _hyung_. 

The man looks like he's just now returned from the war- totally disheveled and utterly tired. But the moment he notices Kyungsoo is he comes alive. It's like a light is turned on inside the man. His whole face glows. 

Kyungsoo thinks he must have done something good in his past life to deserve Jongin. With this he starts to cry, ugly sobbing making his body jerk. 

Jongin looks alarmed. "Where are you hurting? Is your head hurting again?" His worry is so evident that Kyungsoo feels sorry for him. 

He stops crying long enough to extend a hand weakly to hold his lover's hand. Jongin holds his hand quickly. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm just happy to see you," he mumbles in between hiccups. 

"Me too, love. Me too." Jongin is crying too now. Inside the hospital, they couldn't care less what people see and think about them. They are finally together and they are happy. That is all that matters after all.


	3. Epilogue

🍂🍂🍂

**_25 years later…_ **

"So you're Kim Minjae's daughter?" The tall, burly man, who must be uncle Jongin, asks her with affection. The other much shorter man standing beside him, who must be uncle Kyungsoo, opens the door wide for her to get inside the house. 

She steps inside feeling welcomed, just as her father told her. He said they would welcome her if they knew whose daughter she is. "Yes uncle Jongin. My name is Sohee. I'm studying history just like you." She smiles up at both of them. 

"You've grown so much! I can't believe it," uncle Jongin says with a smile. He seems like a good man just like her father told her. 

"So you're here to take my interview as a war veteran?" 

She nods her head. "Also, if you don't mind I'd like to interview uncle Kyungsoo too. I've heard he was a witness of pro-communist militant attack on the POW camp of Koje-Do where both you and my father were posted as guards. Am I right?" When uncle Jongin nods his head with an impressed look she feels proud of herself as she's done her homework well. 

"But I can give you consent for my interview only. For Kyungsoo you'll have to ask him yourself, okay?" 

Just as she nods her head, uncle Kyungsoo arrives at the drawing room with a plate full of cookies in hand. Aside from jointly owning a book-store chain in Seoul with uncle Jongin, uncle Kyungsoo owns a bakery called _Mr. Egghead_. She personally finds the name really cute, just as cute as the shorter uncle. 

In between the questions and answers Sohee catches both the uncles sharing suppressed laughs between themselves. Once uncle Jongin tries to take a cookie from the plate, uncle Kyungsoo glares at him and the taller man lets the cookie go without saying anything. "He has been diagnosed with diabetes recently. So he's not allowed to eat sweets," uncle Kyungsoo explains to her with a smile. 

After almost an hour when Sohee is leaving the house, she has a big smile on her face. She can't believe she's meeting them the first time. They are the warmest people she's ever seen and she hopes she can keep contact with these men. 

Just before getting out of the main door, she turns around suddenly. "I have one last question," she says raising a hand. Both the men nod their heads. "Why is the bakery named _Mr. Egghead_? Is it because of uncle Kyungsoo's round, bald head?" 

All three of them burst out laughing at the same time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for giving me the opportunity to participate and being patient with me. 
> 
> To my dear readers kudos and comments make me happy as always.


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